Urban Witchcasters

It only gets worse from here

Silence washed the street for a breath, then the floor exploded. Dust flooded the streets as the sound of the explosion echoed between buildings, rattling their windows.

Marcus covered his mouth looking away, eyes shut, praying that falling debris wouldn't land on him and cave his skull in.

A second passed and the pattering of debris ceased. The dust died down; it was safe enough to open his eyes.

Marcus froze, heart pounding. His widened gaze locked on a grotesque creature nearly the size of the damaged buildings around them.

Its vomit-inducing oily skin glistened in the sun, reflecting the tiny organisms that crawled across it. Its massive yet short and stubby arms clutched on the side of a building; its massive frame rising like smoke from a fire.

The putrid smell of sewage rose alongside the creature.

Its bulbous eyes swung in different directions erratically. Then they landed on Marcus—still frozen since this thing's appearance. It's dark, lifeless excuse for pupils remained still as it released a guttural croak.

His bones shook; he nearly fell over.

Never in these past ten years did he expect to find himself in this situation, much less to be overwhelmed with both the need to run away and run towards this thing with every fibre of his being. He took one look at the lifeless frog-thing laid at his feet.

Adrenaline still pumped through his veins. Up against a monster that big, one wrong move—any move at all—would mean death.

But the blood rushing to his head—or rushing out of it—made him stare down the behemoth with a grin, and an overwhelming desire to end its life.

***

One hour earlier.

“Werewolves, vampires, demons, and zombies. What do all of these have in common?“ asked Redrick, pacing the dark classroom, obscuring the projection on the classroom board of the very things he'd mentioned as he did.

A hand went up. “They all make shitty romance movies?” said one student. The class laughed; so did Redrick.

“That too,” Redrick stopped pacing, “but that's not all.“ He pushed a button on the remote in his hand; the projection changed. Now it showed two men side by side, one of a medieval Englishman, and another of a native African. He turned to the board and smacked it. “What do you see?“

Another hand went up. “Some dudes,” the student said. The class laughed again.

“Not just any dudes. These are people who lived on other sides of the earth, and probably couldn't text each other.“

“And?—”

“And yet, they both believe in vampires, werewolves, demons, and all that other bullshit,” said Redrick. The class giggled.

“Language,” said their teacher, loud enough to drown out the laughter—as if her gaze wasn't enough. She turned her glare to Redrick. He shuddered.

“Sorry, Miss V,” he said, turning to her. “but you gotta admit it makes no flipping sense right?“ he turned back to the class. “How could two dudes in different parts of the world—no WiFi or social media or… I don't know, DVDs or something?—possibly believe in the same stuff?“ This time the class remained silent. Redrick smiled, clicking the button once more, projecting his next words. “Cultural convergence.“

The class was absorbed, and so was Miss V. Redrick was doing a much better job than Marcus though he would. If he stuck the landing, they might just pass this class.

“Noah's ark, the epic of Gilgamesh, stories of giants that span from England to Mexico; tales of serpentine dragons from Asia, all the way to the fire-breathing lizards we know here in the States,” Redrick said, displaying image after image as he listed on. “More than once, humanity has believed in the same shit for generations, even when no-one could've spread myths across countries. And that's happened for a reason.“

Marcus checked his watch and then looked straight at Redrick. He needed to finish things before they lost interest. The attention span of your average teen was about as long as your average man's... "water-hose".

He pretended to cough, sending Redrick's gaze at him as he tapped the face of his wristwatch as subtly as possible.

Redrick looked at the class. “Just like all humans everywhere believed in the sun, in each other, and in animals, they believed in these 'supernatural creatures' because once upon a time,” he projected his next words again, “they existed.“

A hand went up. “Then where the hell are they now?“ asked the student.

“I have three theories.“ Redrick clicked a button and turned off the projector; another student turned on the lights, much to the squinting of many eyes. “Either humanity did what they did best and ran them to extinction, they disappeared after the great sinking three hundred years ago in the year nineteen-nineteen. Or—” He turned, grabbing a blurred out picture of Bigfoot from the desk and slamming it on the board. “—they still walk among us till this very day.“

“So your whole presentation was all about how Bigfoot is real?“ asked a particular student; female, square pink glasses, her short black curly hair hanging neatly beside her as she stood to her feet.

“No, not just Bigfoot, but—”

“The boogeyman? El Chupacabra? Big scary Yetis? Or maybe—”

“Yes, Sarah! And I didn't say they were real for sure. All I said—”

“Even your girlfriend is real and walks among us?“ said Sarah, making the most exaggerated shocked face Marcus had ever seen. The class laughed.

“Not funny.“ Redrick said.

It was pretty funny.

“Alright, alright.“ Miss Violet, their classroom teacher, finally stepped in, dulling the laughter once more. “Redrick, that was a great presentation; very engaging,” she said, gesturing him to return to his seat, and for Sarah to take hers.

Marcus smirked as he watched Redrick exchange glares with Sarah before his best friend sat next to him. “¡Bravo cabrón!” Marcus whispered.

“Damned four eyes,” Redrick muttered, glaring in Sarah's direction.

Marcus smirked and tapped Redrick on the shoulder. “Forget her,” his smirk turned to a grin, then a scoff. “You killed it, Red. Like LeBron James levels of killed it! Which is surprising given your lack of balls,” laughed Marcus.

“Alright asshole,” Redrick shrugged Marcus's hand off of his shoulder, “mock me for not wanting to talk in front of the whole class.“

“Like anyone would know I existed if I did the talking ,” Marcus said, smiling. “I helped you get over your chronic lack of confidence, AND got us an A-plus all in one swoop mi amigo. I'm like, the best friend, period. I should be paid—”

“Yeah right dipshit! You didn't help me get over shit, and you're definitely not, like, the best friend, period,“ said Redrick, mimicking Marcus at the end.

Marcus looked a tad offended. “Yes I am.“

“So you were 'like, the best friend' when you were blowing me off all week?“

“yeah well, I had stuff to take care of.“

“Okay, John Wick. Stuff like what?“

Marcus let out a sigh. He pondered for a moment, thinking of an excuse, but ultimately threw his hands up in defeat. “I can't really—”

“Yeah, right. If you told me then you'd have to kill me?—”

“I see your bromantic gossip couldn't wait till class was over,” said Miss Violet as she walked towards the two of them. She turned to Marcus, “Mr. Moon, It wasn't enough that you didn't contribute to your group's assignment, you had to distract my class as well?“

Marcus wore a bewildered look. “Miss Violet, I contributed to the assignment this time, I swear,” he turned to Redrick, “tell her, Red.“

Miss Violet, and the class's attention all fell on Redrick. He let out a sigh. “He's right Miss V. He actually did most of the research and stuff. My job was to just get on stage, present our assignment, and look sexy while doing it,” said Redrick.

The class laughed, but Marcus could tell they were disappointed.

“See?“ said Marcus.

Miss Violet gave him a scowl that shut him up. “You do know you're still failing my class?“

“History is pretty hard.“

“You're barely passing other classes, you make it a habit to skip school, and if not for your bad grades, barely anyone knows you exist.“

“But I did—”

“Don't talk back to me young man!“ she said, with a sterner voice than necessary.

Marcus gave up and sank into his chair. It's not like she'd understand anyway; he had more important things to do than sit at a desk and study all day.

She should be happy he even came in today. One of those things could be killing someone and here he was getting lectured.

Miss Violet took a breath. “I'm genuinely concerned about you Marcus. At the rate that you're going, you won't graduate high school, much less get into college,” she said.

All eyes were on Marcus again, their gaze demeaning as always.

“Focus, Marcus, you need to take your life seriously if you plan on graduating high school. But I will give credit where credit is due,” she turned and began walking away, “good job on your assignment. I owe you a cupcake.“

All the gazes that were stuck on him slowly left as his teacher did. No surprises there; he only existed when scorn looked for him. Invisible in the best and worst way. He was never included in (or the subject of) class gossip, and less work (if any at all) was given to him whenever it counted—group or not—which made hunting those creatures easier.

Sarah stood up and walked to the front of the classroom with another classmate, starting their own presentation. Marcus however, had more important things to worry about.

Rumours of a Loveland frog had spread around school like STDs. He'd have thought it the usual gossip or urban legend circulating amongst the students, but his own senses proved it was more than that.

Two weeks ago, a senior went missing—vanished while he was supposedly practising late on the basketball court.

The only ones present that day were his teammates, who were all in the locker room washing up. According to rumours, they'd heard a noise coming from the court, but by the time they got there, he was just… gone.

Students came up with all kinds of explanations. “A teacher (or staff) kidnapped him for kinky pedophilia,” “he ran away,” “he became the lunch lady's new mystery meat,” or “his teammates must've done something.“

But the moment Marcus heard what happened, he knew it was some supernatural creature.

Ten years ago, a man met six-year-old Marcus and his dad after sundown at Clover Hill Commons—his favourite park. A herd of nightmarish abominations stood at the man's side—some smaller than Marcus, others towered like buildings.

The events of that day are still hazy in his mind, but he remembers some things clearly. His father got ripped in half in front of him; that breathing embodiment of evil was muttering something as he did, not even paying attention. Six-year-old Marcus was chased by a herd of those bloodthirsty creatures, running till his lungs gave out.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hands of the police the next morning, cursed. A curse he wouldn't discover for a week, till the pain started.

Every ache known to man would shoot through his body if he went for more than a week without eating the flesh of the supernatural. Something he wouldn't realise for months.

The only silver lining was that the curse had left him with the ability to smell them—the supernatural—a mile away.

So the minute he stepped into school, he knew a supernatural creature killed his senior.

The supernatural killed another human; the thought fanned the burning rage inside him.

Finding and killing this thing before anyone else got hurt was one of the only reasons Marcus even came to school today—the other was his mother, who was arguably scarier than any man-eating humanoid frog.

She'd been sick the week before, recovering from the flu. Thanks to that, Marcus skipped a few days of school to take care of her, but he'd had no time to go hunting for the supernatural.

He'd gone a full week without eating them. Coming to school today wasn't just so he could please his mother (even if it was a BIG reason); he had a chance to handle things before the pains began.

Amid Marcus's thoughts, a scent grabbed him by the throat. A choking smell of sewage and blood, one with a hint of that smell only the supernatural carried. The smell of death. At the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of something green, and it was moving fast.

He turned to the window so fast his head nearly snapped off. “Shit!“ he whispered as his second glance confirmed it. “The frog!“

The curtains swung close right as Marcus watched the four-foot frog leap over the fence in a single bound, flying more than double its height through the air.

“The what?“ Redrick asked as the lights around them went out. Marcus turned to the front of the class and realised that Sarah had a projection slide prepared too.

Just his luck.

He grabbed his school bag and turned to Redrick. “Cover for me,” he whispered.

“What!?“ Redrick looked like he'd just been insulted.

“Moon! Martini! Interrupt my class one more time and you'll be the one teaching it!“ Miss Violet yelled from the front of the class.

“Sorry,” they said simultaneously, sinking into their seats.

Marcus put on his bag as quietly as he could, gaze glued to the teacher as he crawled out of his seat.

Redrick panicked, frantically looking around, making sure no one saw Marcus.

No one did—or cared, he didn't know which.

Another perk of being invisible.

“I've got stuff to take care of, I'll be back.“ Marcus began crawling behind Redrick's seat—both their seats were at the very back of the class.

“I can't!“ Redrick grunted. “You blow me off for a week, and now then ask me to cover for you!? No way asshole!“ he whispered aggressively, trying his best not to part his teeth.

“Quit saying I blew you off for a week. That's weird and people are going to misunderstand our relationship—”

“That's not the point!“

Marcus paused halfway behind Redrick's chair. “I'll make it up to you, I promise,” he said, turning his gaze to the crack in the door at the back of the class. It was just big enough for him to leave—it really was his lucky day.

Redrick's expression changed from pissed to worried-pissed. “Dude, you've got no friends except for me and Sarah, you got kicked off the baseball team, your grades are failing, and you've been skipping school… Like a lot!“

“Wow, Red. Miss Violet's degrading lecture wasn't enough for you?—”

“This is your life, Mars! Miss Violet is kinda right; you need to stop blowing everything off and lock in.“

A pained expression sat on Marcus's face after hearing that. Of course Red didn't understand. No-one did. None of them were there ten years ago when it happened. And even if he told them, who the hell would believe that these things existed today and ate people?

Redrick took a breath after seeing Marcus's expression. “Look man, I'm not that mad you've been… not hanging out with me… a lot. But you owe me a big ass lunch“

“I—”

“Moon!“ Miss Violet shrieked from the front of the class. “They do NOT pay me enough for this!“

Marcus shared a “busted” expression with Redrick and sprang to his feet. “I've got dysentery!“ he blurted out before bolting through the classroom door.

The fading scent made him face down the hall. There was no chance in hell he'd let that thing escape. It killed someone; it had to die.

That was more important than Miss Violet's ignorant yelling or Redrick's worry. Turning back wasn't an option; he had a frog to kill.