((Super Llama Chick: Hey ya. This is my little story. Even though I've got almost the whole plot planned out, I've only written about 2 and a half chapters. So if anyone bothers to read and review this (and I certainly hope someone will), just know that it's going to take a while to finish. I am open to any tips and ideas for this story. Enjoy.))
Mrs. Darakus was the trigonometry teacher at Merlin The Magician's Wizardry High. Believe it or not, math DID come in handy in wizardry. Chester Samulan could never remember how, though. After all, half the time he was asleep during class. Most of the time, Darakus did not notice this (she was an old lady with poor eyesight and huge crooked glasses that did not work well; although she insisted in keeping them), but unfortunately for Chester Samulan, today she did. (Or fortunately; depending on your point of view.)
"Mr. Chester Samulan!" She hollered right in his ear.
He jumped up. "Chase!" He always said that when someone called him his full name. It was habit.
"I will call you what I will call you, Mr. Chester Samulan," Mrs. Darakus said firmly.
The young wizard rolled his eyes. He thought his full name was a mouth full. He preferred people to call him Chase. "Well did you want something, Doris? Can I call you Doris?" He winked at her. This would have had most girls squealing with delight. Chase was not a bad looking guy. He had long, golden hair, which he kept in a ponytail; and bright blue eyes. His sense of style was also not bad for a young wizard. Today he was wearing a loose dark blue shirt, often worn by princes, and beige pants (tights were for rich, spoiled brats).
Mrs. Darakus, however, looked annoyed. She scratched a one of the warts on her long nose and cleared her throat. "Mr. Chester Samulan, do you recall anything of what we've learned in the last half hour?"
"Course not." Chase thought that was obvious.
The teacher then did something that she only did every once in a while when she was very angry with a student: She raised her cane that she had been leaning over on and pointed it at Chase accusingly. "Mr. Chester Samulan, I will not tolerate such behavior. Please report to Principal Melvin's office immediately."
Chase shrugged and walked out the door: This was nothing new for him. The office had become a familiar place to him. He walked in and waved at the secretary. "Hello, Janey."
Janey was speaking to someone on the phone, so she gave Chase a quick and obviously fake smile. Janey was also old and somewhat rotten, but not quite so old and rotten as Doris Darakus.
When the secretary finished her phone call, she gave Chase a proper greeting. "Good afternoon, Mr. Samulan."
"Please, just call me Chase."
Janey gave him her fake smile again. She picked pressed a button on her intercom and spoke into it. "Mr. Melvin, Mr. Chester Samulan is here to see you."
"Again?" came a bored voice from the other side.
"Again," Janey confirmed.
A tired sigh was heard, then, "Show him in."
Janey motioned her hand toward the door to the principal's office. Chase finished getting his coffee (he had put two sugars and one cream in it; he knew where everything was kept), smiled at Janey and entered the office.
The office looked mostly like a small library. There were books all over the walls with titles such as "How To Fix A Broken Wand" and "How To Undo Frog Spells"—Chase was sure some of the books hid secret passageways. In the center of the room, there was a desk with a picture of the great Merlin the Magician (Principal Melvin's great-great-uncle), a large golden globe, a small diagram of the solar system, and a nameplate, which read, "Principal Melvin". A short, fragile little man with a long pure white beard sat at the desk in a huge purple chair, which made him look even more short, fragile and little; and made his beard look even whiter and longer. He was wearing a typical wizard's outfit: A blue robe and pointy hat, both decorated with gold stars.
Chase thought all this was too unoriginal. When he became a respected wizard (or if, at this rate), he would make his "crib" lot cooler. Silver; skateboarding; hot chicks—he could imagine it now.
Principal Melvin peered at Chase through his large, gold-rimmed glasses. They were almost as big as his head and made him look quite like an owl. "Good day, Chester Samulan."
"It's Chase," he corrected.
"My apologies, Chester Samulan."
Of course, this was all routine. Both of them knew exactly what would happen next: Principal Melvin would take off his glasses, fold his hands, look Chase straight in the eyes and say, "Mr. Chester Samulan, do you have something you'd like to tell me?" (This was a tactic Melvin used quite frequently; he thought it made the students more nervous and therefore more open to tell him what happened. This was usually true, but Chase had been sent to the office too many times for it to work one him.)
Principal Melvin took of his glasses. He folded his hands. He looked Chase straight in the eyes. And then he said, "Mr. Chester Samulan, do you have something you'd like to tell me?"
Chase's response would not be so predictable, but the way he would deliver it was. That was to be expected, of course. "Actually yes. I was thinking that perhaps you might hire new lunch ladies. Don't tell them I said so, but their meals are quite revolting."
"That's not what I meant, Mr. Chester Samulan."
"You say my name too often. It's annoying, especially since you don't say it right."
Melvin put his fingers above his nose, to illustrate that he was becoming irritated. "Please don't change the subject, Mr.—"
"Honestly, have you tasted the fried Griffin's eggs? Ghastly, I tell you."
"That is not the—wait, it's illegal to eat Griffin's eggs!"
"Oh dear, then what did I eat for lunch then?"
"I—you—that's not—" Melvin looked weary and confused. He pressed the button on the intercom. "Janey! I need an aspirin!"
"Yes, sir." About five seconds later, Janey came into the office, placed a glass of water and an aspirin on Melvin's desk, and walked out.
Chase waited patiently for Principal Melvin to calm down.
About five minutes later, Melvin's breathing pace returned to normal, and he remembered that he had a student in the room. "Oh. Hello, Mr. Ch—"
"Principal Melvin! Lovely to see you again!" Chase exclaimed cheerfully.
"Yes, of course. Now, where were we?" Melvin was very old (even for a wizard; he was exactly twenty seven thousand and one years old), and therefore very forgetful.
Chase was only fifteen, and therefore very mischievous. "Why, I don't—oh, I remember! You told me how wonderful I was doing in class and was about to let me leave."
Melvin thought about this for a moment. Well…that sounded good to him. "Alright, then."
"Good afternoon, Principal Melvin." Chase stood up and opened the door.
"Yes, goodbye, M—"
The door slammed behind Chase. He gave Janey a devious smile. "Nice weather we're having, hm Janey?"
Janey ignored him.
Chase walked out of the secretary's office and down the hall.
A sigh of boredom escaped his lips. He went through this almost every day. What was the use of it, anyhow? There was absolutely no way he would ever finish high school at the rate he was going. Why didn't he just move back home?
No, he knew why. His parents and grandmother wanted more than anything for him to become a wizard. When he discovered he had the ability to cast spells, they sent him straight to wizardry school. There's no use in wasting good talent, they had said.
But Chase had no interest in becoming a wizard. He had all the bare necessities at home. His parents weren't extremely prosperous, but they were by no means peasants. After all, they were wealthy enough to pay a cook, a maid, a butler, and support Chase and his pain-in-the-you-know-where grandmother.
Of course, now that he thought about it, ever since his grandmother had moved in with his family, his father had been complaining about money problems. Perhaps…he was trying to support one too many people. And that's why it was so important for Chase to move away!
Chase was suddenly furious. How could they do this to him? In his rage, he made the decision to leave Merlin The Magician's Wizardry High. He stormed into his dorm room and gathered up his few belongings: his wand, a notebook, and a book written by Merlin the Magician. It had a lock on it that no one could figure out how to open, so Chase had never read it; but his great grandfather—who received it from Merlin himself, when both Chase's grandfather and The Magician were alive—had given it to him. Chase thought his great grandfather had been the most pleasant of all his relatives.
He looked down at his clothes. Most of the things he had used in his stay at Merlin The Magician's Wizardry High had been provided by the school. His clothes were one of those things. But he had long since misplaced the attire he wore on the day he arrived, and there was no way he was going to walk around in his undergarments, so he decided the school would just have to purchase a new pair of pants and a shirt.
He whistled as he walked off the school grounds, carrying only his few belongings and wearing clothes that he did not buy. He had nowhere to go, and no way of knowing how to get there. Perhaps, he thought, he would just work in the nearest Taco Queen. Maybe he could eventually make enough money to buy his own place. But where would he live until then?
He stopped whistling. This was going to be harder than he thought.
He approached the edge of the Infinite Forest. He would have to walk around that. Once you entered the forest, you were in danger of bandits. Deeper into it you didn't have to worry about getting robbed. Bandits were too frightened to go too deep into the forest. There were monsters like griffins, dragons, goblins, and all kinds of things in there. But in the heart of the Infinite Forest; in the deepest, darkest part, where the sun would not even dare to shine through the trees; there were legends of things so terrible—and so marvelous—that no one could begin to imagine them. No one had ever been into the Heart of the Infinite Forest. No one, that is, except for the famed Merlin the Magician. He, however, never returned.
Chase began walking around the forest. That would take him forever. But it didn't matter. Anything was better than walking though it.
He stopped. Something had moved in the trees. Bandits? Perhaps. It may also have been something worse. Sometimes the horrible creatures that the forest sported came near out at night to hunt. Chase stayed perfectly still. Maybe it wouldn't spot him…whatever it was.
He saw a shadowy figure. It was human shaped. Probably a bandit. Or a goblin. Or maybe a dark elf. You could never be sure.
The shadowy figure spoke. "You."
Chase's face turned pale.
"Yes you," the dark form confirmed. "The one who looks like he's about to wet his pants."
Chase knew a lot about the attacks and living methods of many of the creatures in the universe, but he didn't pay attention when the teachers talked about how different species acted. Now he wished he did.
"So," the thing said, "you look like a guy who could use some money."
"Yes!" Chase cried before he could stop himself.
"That's good," the shadow said, "because I happen to have a job for you."
Without the warning that Chase would've preferred, the thing emerged from the shadows and revealed his form. He was a humanoid, but it was obvious he was not human. His skin was quite pale, almost white; and his eyes were coal black with a slight red tint. His bluish-black hair was shaggy around his head, getting in his eyes a bit. He wore a black cape around himself, keeping it up with his hand; his long, sharp fingernails that peeked from behind it were evidence of this.
There was no doubt in the young wizard's mind what this creature was.
Chase almost fainted.
The vampire smiled at him, revealing his perfectly white, perfectly straight, and perfectly deadly fangs. "Yo," it said.
Chase gathered up all his courage, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. "GAAAAA!"
The vampire seemed surprised—almost frightened.
"Don't do that!"
"God, will you shut up?"
"Look, will you just—"
"If you don't shut up, I'll suck your blood or something!"
Chase stopped yelling.
The vampire looked pleased. "That's better. Now, about this job I have for you. Would you be opposed to kidnap someone?"
There was a moment silence between the two as the young wizard tried to gather his thoughts. "…What?"
"I'm sorry, where are my manners?" The vampire threw his cape off, showing what he was wearing beneath: A baggy black long sleeve shirt; baggy black sweatpants; and black leather shoes. "I'm Fred the Friendly Blood-Sucking Vampire! All my friends call me Fred. That is, they would…if I had any friends…" He frowned and looked away, but just as quickly lit up again and stared back at Chase. "What's your name?"
"Um…m-my name is Chester Samulan." He was so frightened that he forgot that he hated his full name.
Fred the Friendly Blood-Sucking Vampire didn't seem to like that. "So tell me, Chester Samulan, if you had any friends, what would they call you?"
Chase began to calm down a bit. This vampire didn't seem too dangerous. Who knew? Maybe he didn't even suck human blood. "They'd call me Chase," he answered. "And I have a lot of friends!"
Fred nodded. "I'm sure you do." There was no mistaking the doubt in his voice, but Chase thought it unwise to argue with a vampire. After all, he really didn't have any friends.
Fred went on. "So what do you think?"
"About the job."
Chase thought about what Fred had said before. As it sunk in, Chase became more and more confused. "Kidnapping?" he said finally.
"Well, yes." Fred shrugged. "But we won't hurt her."
The vampire sighed. "Maybe I ought to explain."