Kyle the Apprentice Warlock

10:50 AM September 13^th 2026

Inside The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History

“Miss, you dropped your phone.”  A woman in an ‘I love NY’ T-shirt where the ‘love’ was replaced with a doodled heart paused in her return to the tour group and groaned.  She’d waited as long as she could before making a break for the bathroom because she hadn’t wanted to miss any of the tour.  It wasn’t every day that your tour guide looked like the son of the famous Harbinger of Dawn, but this guy wasn’t a cook so it couldn’t be him.  Still, if she got him to take a selfie with her no one would have to know he was just a lookalike.

So, she’d held it waiting for an opportunity to ask which had never come.  Eventually, she’d had to give in to the call of nature and it had been the most explosive – she’d been quick.  So quick, that she hadn’t shoved her phone deep enough into the stupid mini pockets that cursed her stupid pants.  And she hadn’t even heard her phone drop.

Suspecting that it was just some bozo trying for an excuse to strike up a conversation she ran her hands over her ass, double-checking her pockets to make sure the phone was really gone even as she turned to the speaker.  Yep.  Her phone was missing.  That was probably her phone.  She was already plastering a grateful smile on her face before she’d turned far enough to see the individual speaking.

The hallway was dark too.  Unnaturally dark despite the dim lights glowing overhead.  Yet not so dark as to be unnavigable.  She had to squint at first to get a good look at the person calling her and when she saw the man, her face fell.  The was no head where she expected one to be.  Only a broad chest.  With a museum identification card on a lanyard.  He was still off away, but he was huge. 

She slowly trailed her eyes upward and saw a large man with thick straight blonde hair that came down over his shoulders.  Light-skinned, he was too far away and too dark in this hallway for her to tell what color eyes he had but he looked like the discount version of a hot Viking.  The distinct lack of obvious muscles and the chef’s whites is what made him the discount version.

Too tall.  Shoulders aren’t broad enough.  No muscles. She thought crassly as she headed toward the cell phone in his outstretched hand.  Then she noticed the stains on his white clothing.  They weren’t large.  But they weren’t old.  Fresh. 

Bright red blood. 

On his hands.  On his knee.  And a bit on his collar.  A small dabble near the large knife in the sheath on his belt.

“Good thing I caught you.”  He grinned and she saw more blood on his face. Was it dripping from his mouth?  She slowed.  Stopped.  Then began backing away.

Seeing her hesitation and movement away from him, the giant of a man sped up his walking trying to get close to her faster.  This only unnerved the woman more and she turned and fled.

“That’s okay.”  She called over her shoulder.  “Just remembered that someone is waiting for me.  Drop it off with the security desk and I’ll pick it up later.”  She was in full retreat sprinting down the hallway back to the tour group before she had finished shouting her excuse.

The man stopped, sighed sadly, and trudged back the way he had come.  Kyle met him coming from the opposite direction.  He stumbled, caught himself, and continued on.

“Hey bro.”  He called out to the Viking looking chef.  “Do you know when the director is going to do something about the lighting in this hallway?  It has got to be an OSHA violation.  A damned hazard at the very least.” 

Kyle was friendly and cheerful, having just finished the last of the dreaded, guided tours that he hated giving for the day.  Knowing he wasn’t on tour duty for a few more days always put a spring in his step.  But his smile dropped a bit when he saw the frown on his coworker’s face and the sparkly pink phone in his hand. 

“Ah, man.  Did it happen again?”  The chef nodded and neither had to specify what it was.  “Well, you get cleaned up, I’ll hit the John, and we’ll drop it at the lost and found when we head out on break.”  The Viking chef nodded and they walked into the men’s room together.

A few minutes later they emerged, the tall chef looking decidedly less like he just finished eating his latest serial murder victim.  After a brief stop to drop off the lost phone, they strolled out the front doors of the museum and onto its giant Greek temple-esque steps talking animatedly like the good friends they were.

“The look on her face, Kyle.  It was bad.”  He scrubbed a now clean hand through his hair and continued his self-castigation.  “I feel like I’m cursed with this height.”

“Nah, bro.”  The apprentice warlock assured his friend with a good-natured laugh.  “If I had walked down that hallway looking like a cannibal serial killer, she would have probably reacted the same way.  At least with your height, when you freak people out they choose to run away instead of deciding that you are small enough they actually can take you if they ‘defend’ themselves.”  Kyle made air quotes to emphasize his point.  “And look on the bright side, with a vampire for a boss, it’s not like you are going to get in trouble for wearing a little blood around from the kitchen.”

“Ha, ha.”  His friend responded with only mild sarcasm before smiling and agreeing.  “Yeah.  It would suck if people tried to fight me every time I weirded them out.  Okay,” He clapped his hands together then flung them wide and took a deep breath as they descended the stairs.  “You know how my morning went.  How was yours?”

“Will you look at the time?  I guess we won’t be able to discuss that particular topic.”  Kyle jokingly made to run off before his friend made a grab at him with a face.  “Actually, shoots, no!  I can’t look at the time.  I forgot my phone.”  He glanced back up the stairs then waved a dismissive hand.  “I don’t need it.  We’re just going for doughnuts.”

“Yeah.  It’s just doughnuts.  Not like there’s going to be a catas – ”  It was said nonchalantly but Kyle gave his friend the evil-side-eye as he joked.

“Don’t even joke.  You’ll jinx us.”  He scolded as his friend shoved his hands in his pockets on their morning stroll.  It was still a gorgeous day.  The sky was very blue, the leaves were just changing. 

“Oh, look, the cloud hopper rabbits are eating cherries from the Alchemist Tree.”  His friend interrupted.  “We should stop by it on the way back, I promised Sam a photo next time she came by your place.”

“Uh, huh.”  Kyle gave his friend the side-eye again, this time deeply suspicious and far less evil…for now.  “You could just text it to her.”  The apprentice warlock volunteered, not sure if he was thrilled by the idea of his slightly older friend sharing numbers with his sister.

“Oh, I don’t have Sam’s number.”  He commented, studiously not looking at Kyle as he said it.  “I figure that if she wanted me to have it, she’d give it to me.”  The wistful sigh – was that a wistful sigh, it better not have been a wistful sigh – that escaped the proverbial giant of a man would have garnered Kyle’s sympathy if they’d been talking about any woman in the world that wasn’t related to him.  Because it was his sister, Kyle decided to update his how-to-dispose-of-bodies plans in the near future.  Friend the chef may be, dating his sister he would not.

“Come on, you keep changing the subject.  How did the morning go…” He paused and grinned slyly at Kyle “…my fellow cook.”  Kyle stopped and stared up at the heavens shaking his fists at the sky with both rage and entreaty.

“You read the article.”  Came his flat reply after his moment of self-indulgence. 

“And saw three news segments discussing it.”  The chef nodded happily while providing more fodder to upset the weary Kyle.  “They even played some of those Tissue Medic ads that Sam wrote back when she thought she wanted to be a business major.

“Oh, Sam and Anna are not going to be pleased about that.”  Cackling with glee, Kyle pulled out his wallet and began checking how much cash he had.  “If you’ve got links text them to me.  I’m making a long edit of all the coverage for grandma...”  Then laughed evilly and added conspiratorially, “And I’m collecting all of Sam’s commercials as ammo for later.”

“You two have issues.”  The other laughed, “My siblings and I were never so…whatever you and Sam are.  Before the…incident…we all got along all the time.”

“Yeah.”  Both sobered quickly but the chef chimed up with a question before they could become morose.