“A new one by the Dark Arts… American Auror, get away from meeee…American Auror, come on and let me beeee…Don’t come knockin’ around my door…Don’t wanna see your shadow no more…” the Wizard’s Wireless chirped from its dusty corner giving the only sound in The Cursed Boot Saloon besides the gentle swish of the overhead fan.
Abigail Stone, Auror Grade III, leaned against the bar watching the few patrons with a keen eye. She pulled from her dusty and dry leather vest a silver case. Inside were thin hand-rolled cigarettes. She slipped one into her mouth and it crackled to life from the little wick of flame at the end of her finger.
It burned too quickly in the dry hot air. Abigail hated summer. Everything was blindingly bright and covered in a coat of sweat and dust. She slid the case back into her vest under the dark wizard duster she had on over it. A gold badge flashed on her chest with the movement. Behind the counter, the bar tender kept rubbing the same cloudy glass clean, watching the door and listening to his little wireless spit out stale songs and pop culture. Abigail hated pop culture.
Outside the sun was baking every ounce of moisture out of the town of Bear Gulch. It wasn’t a large town, but it drew its share of visitors. The largest and, in Abigail’s opinion, the most important structure on the arid main street was the United States Auror Headquarters. It was a wooden building with little to distinguish it from the surrounding stores and artisan shops, other than being two stories taller than anything else. The Headquarters rose a grand four floors above the South Dakota backwoods earth.
Inside the saloon, wizards slowly played cards trying to use as little energy as possible. The Cursed Boot wasn’t known for having the best accommodations, but it did have the best whiskey in town. Abigail had other reasons to prefer the Cursed Boot over other saloons in the area.
She nodded to the bar tender and asked under her breath, “Any messages?”
“Slow day, Miss Stone and with this heat…” he shrugged.
She pulled her long raven black hair away from her sticky neck for a moment and let the tresses fall back against her. Abigail picked up her tattered leather cowboy hat, scorched from hexes and wayward spells, and slid it smoothly atop her head. She pulled it low over her dark brown eyes. Her leather duster brushed against the stools as she turned to nod good-bye to the bar tender, who was humming along with the song on the wireless.
Abigail left the saloon and braved the sweltering weather outside its swinging double doors. The streets were near empty, the town’s populations seeking shade and rooms laden with cooling charms. A group of elder wizards were sitting in old rocking chairs outside of the General Store drinking whisky and talking about better days. Abigail tipped her hat to them as she passed and they nodded in return.
“Good day, Auror,” one of them said pleasantly in a scratchy worn voice.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she said curtly in a deep voice and kept walking.
Ahead a gruff looking wizard was helping a stiff and prim looking witch out of a carriage. She looked around gravely and sniffed unhappily. Abigail passed by, considering how unpleasant it was going to be for the new resident until she got used to life in Bear Gulch. It would be a brutal wake-up call, especially considering the hotel they were walking into. Abigail stepped out into the cross street and was nearly bowled over by three young boys who seemed oblivious to the summer heat.
They hurled apologies back to her and didn’t slow down. Abigail spit into the dust and kept moving. The Headquarters was at the end of the main street towering in a menacing way that buildings sometimes do. Above the door, painted in fading gold was the badge of the Auror. A five pointed star with a hand holding a wand at its center. Below it was the simple motto, “At the Ready.”
Abigail pushed though the swinging doors with minimal effort and found herself in the Spartan lobby. It was just as dusty as the rest of the town and the fireplace was stone cold. A younger wizard baring the same gold badge as her on his chest looked up from the chair he was leaning back in, half dozing.
“Auror Stone, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off duty. Getting some relaxation,” he drug the last word out annoyingly. This is why Abigail hated pop culture, it was alarmingly entrenched in to new recruits.
The boy was wearing black leather, which he obviously thought made him quite cool, though Abigail was sure he must be horribly uncomfortable. He had on a fashionable T-shirt with a band logo over the front, The Weird Sisters, and tipped back on his head was a black cowboy hat that could still be sitting on the shelf of the store he bought it in. She glared at him and walked past in silence. Her spurs clinking quietly on the floor.
She passed by the lobby and headed for stairs at the rear of the building. There were several empty cells along the wall on the first floor. They were heavily fortified with magical charms and almost looked blurry. The cell opposite the stairs held an angry looking hag, jailed last week for trying to eat a set of muggle twins. Ignoring the jeer the hag sent her way, she climbed the stairs. She bypassed the second floor that had all of the private offices of the Aurors, including her own. On the third floor was the operations center. She passed by several closed office doors; Magical Equipment Control, Improper Use of Magic, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts and several other subdivisions within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that found themselves located here instead of Washington.
The operations center, termed OPCEN was a large room in the front of the building. It had huge windows lining one wall, letting in much of the scorching sunlight as well as providing a lot of room for owls to enter and exit. The two side walls had three fireplaces each to meet the demand for incoming floo calls. The back wall, besides having the door Abigail was now standing in, had a black board to write on and a pin up board to tack any notices or articles of importance. In the center of the room was a large wooden table. On a portion of it was a glowing map of the US with the major locations of the wizarding population highlighted.
Abigail looked around and noted that the few Aurors in the room all looked bored to tears. Aurors Jess Snodgrass and Tad Treacle were playing a game of wizard chess, their board and pieces over a stack of paperwork that looked like reports from the different Auror outposts. Jess lethargically moved a queen a few spots to the right. Behind them Auror Purity Smith was a mess of blonde hair laying on one of the outlaying desks by the windows. Jess and Tad dressed like proper Aurors in thick well used dusters, but Purity. Well, Purity, Abigail didn’t like much. She may have been one of the top in her class at Salem Witches Institute, as Abigail had been many years before, but she did nothing to contribute to the serious demeanor of the Auror Department.
Abigail cleared her throat and leaned against the door jam. Jess and Tad stood up immediately to face her, scattering their game of chess. Purity, however, remained asleep on the desk. Jess did his best to covertly kick her, but Abigail’s eyes caught the movement. With a fair amount of grumbling, Purity sat up and turned to see what was happening. When she saw Abigail at the door she flashed a large candy pink smile and stood.
“Good Morning Auror Stone!” she said sing song like and fluttered her eye lashes.
“Slow day?” Abigail asked to Jess, ignoring Purity’s greeting.
“Yes Ma’am,” Jess said. “No owls and the floo’s been dead all morning.”
But as luck would have it, a northern hawk owl came wheeling through the open window just behind Purity and landed noisily on one of the perches nearby. Abigail arched her eyebrows.
Jess cast her a nervous smile and reached for the letter the bird was carrying. Abigail watched him read the letter over twice, following his darting eyes. It wasn’t long. Just a scribbled note. Jess looked up with his mouth slightly agape.
“Auror Stone, this is a letter from Auror Blackbear. He’s currently manning SouthCen outpost. Racine has come under attack by a clan of Zombies,” Jess said uneasily.
Abigail took the letter out of his hands.
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