Two years after the Christians attempted to burn down America's first magic school, Rahbeem Roth got ready to start his new life as one of its few mortal professors. And he contemplated this fact as sixteen teenage witches stared down at him from the old wooden bleachers they were sitting on.
This room had many windows allowing in some glorious light, highlighting all the browns and shine in this distinguished-looking study room.
The main windows, however, at the forefront of the class were hidden behind a giant red velvet tapestry, and on this giant velvet cloth was a picture of a kindly-faced old man.
His name was “Rangwark.” He was the demon God who had invaded planet Earth.
OutsidAe, October was pulling itself out of its crypt, and by tomorrow it would call itself “November.” Professor Diaz paced slowly to the other side of the room. A giant black crow sat on the shoulder of his silk suit, making little noise, but it twitched its head back and forth as its obsidian eyes inspected the apprenti. Rangwark was hanging tough to their left as he moved. The two forms mystically guarded each other as Diaz stopped and looked over his classroom of young warlocks and witches.
"So, to wrap this up, I hope you will all be welcoming to the newest addition to the Menzai Island family," the utterly handsome Professor Diaz said. "Be yourselves; nothing more, nothing less. I want Professor Roth to stay with us; I think he's a fine teacher." He put a hand on Roth’s shoulder. "But I also want him to know exactly what he's getting into...So please, just be yourselves.”
Rahbeem Roth dared a look at his new employer and regretted it instantly when a chill shook up his spine rattling every molecule in his body.
Diaz’s smile was terribly unsettling. It could be because the man was a demon…but more than likely, it was because he was a immortal demon who could burn for 9 hours and not die, and now controlled Rahbeem’s paychecks.
The visual manifestation of his fear came to be, as 32 eyeballs, all of various colors and diameters, fell on Rahbeem, freezing him in place with their cold calculating stares.
Well, actually it was 33 eyes. Christopher Robyn was stationed at Diaz's desk with his feet up on it. Being that he would be part of Menzai's first graduating class of seniors, he didn't have too many classes. And he had already surpassed the level of quite a few of his teachers in ability, so he became a teachers' assistant for most of his classes.
All four students of Kaye’s grew into handsome young men, each in their own unique way. It was a mystical gift from Kaye that got stronger and more intense even in his death. The charm and beauty were Kaye's way of saying thanks for helping him gain the power he wanted.
But out of all 4 of them, Chris may have been the most stunning. He was tall and lean, with blond hair slightly shaved on the sides, and savage green eyes. One eye, however, was hidden behind an eye patch. Christopher Robyn had been in the car accident that took Mrs. Bon-Moon and Portia Bon-Moon’s lives. And while he was the only one who managed to survive, he lost his eye and much of his mind.
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Rahbeem pulled away from the safety of his new boss and walked up the stairs of the nearly lightless classroom. The candle fires that were on the edge of the desk lining his path flickered as he passed them, and some students turned their heads to watch him. The concentrated spots of light made their faces into abstract art; eyes and mouths fractured under hoods, caps and turbans, or simply framed by tufts of hair.
He had to cut across the back of some desk to make his way to an empty seat. Three boys were seated at the edge of this row, and he noticed the middle boy had a shock of blue hair that covered most of his face as he leaned over his desk, sketching dragons into his notebook with tiny ear plugs hidden in his shag of hair trying to be inconspicuous:
A stunning black and blue guitar rested on his back, and looked as comfortable on his body as a shell was on a turtle's. The gloss on the guitar came from the candlelight of the desk right above the boys, and the gloss followed Rahbeem for an instant as he etched his way to the center of the row.
Seth stopped drawing when he felt the ear buds snatched out of his ear. He’d been listening to The Smiths “What Difference Does It Make” and suddenly Morrissey’s optimistically morose crooning was replaced with Professor Diaz going on about something irrelevant to witchcraft, like what he had for breakfast that morning.
The new teacher had good eyes, especially for a mortal. Seth watched as Professor Roth found his seat and sat down. He had really good eyes. Seth had gotten ear buds the same blue as his hair, so they’d be easy to miss. Seth didn’t need to hear any of this anyway. Junior spell casting was lame. He was beyond all this and felt he should be sitting next to Chris as a teachers' assistant even though he was younger than him by a year.
Anyhow, he just needed music and his sketches to help him relax. He was excited about class today...but for a completely different reason than whatever Diaz was going on about.
Douche nozzle number one with the spikey red hair and freckles waited for Roth to be in his seat before he pushed a dirty magazine across Seth’s hunched over back to the teen on Seth’s other side.
“Nice, huh?” Greg the Gozer uttered, “This bitch is hot! Makes you forget about ole’ ice pussy Morgana Dupree, right?”
On Seth’s left was douche nozzle number two, Skylar Peabody, long and lean with hair as black as Seth’s current disposition.
Sky dug his elbow into Seth’s back as he took a gander at the vixen Greg was vouching for. The dark hood spun around his head looked like a tattered black rag.
“Nice!” He leaned more of his body weight into his elbow, essentially using Seth as an arm rest. “She definitely has a lot of talent. And her ass looks real!”
“Ouch,” Seth protested weakly, wincing at the pain.
The rolled up magazine bashed into the back of his head. “Stop making noise, twazzer!” Greg hissed. “You want Diaz to spot us?”
“Yes, please…” Seth muttered. He side-eyed Greg, thinking if he connected all the freckles on his face, he’d sketch what would look like a “One Piece” manga comic.
His eyes then slid back to the front of the room with Diaz, hoping to send a telepathic message to the teacher to rescue him. This telepathic ability hadn’t shown itself the other 2,000 times Seth tried to send. psionic messages to people, but maybe today was his lucky day.
His eyes got lost on their way to Diaz and landed on Rangwark instead. It was hard to be angry at such a handsome chap, but Seth managed. For one thing, the tapestry covered up the main windows, impeding Seth’s daydream escape act, and what might have amounted to some relief from Greg the Gozer and Skylar Peabody. Not that he needed the window to daydream, but Rangwark’s face made it hard to have good reveries about life and a hopeful future.
When you saw Rangwark, you remembered with hideous clarity that Planet Earth was fucked.
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