The thing about Arcane magic -- it's hard to control. It requires absolute focus, intense fixation and delicate precision. Not impulsive behaviour, emotional rage or short tempers. All mannerisms I was prone to do. Which made it especially hard for me to create summoning circles in the dark, noisy streets of the Under City.

I mumble a horrible swear word under my breath as I wipe my inky hands on my jeans, the dark fabric hiding the stains of squid ink and banshee blood. I slowly stand up, from where I was crouching on the floor of a murky alleyway, my knees popping from sitting in one place for too long.

If I had it my way, I'd make the circle in the comfort of my shabby apartment -- at least it was quiet and away from the Under City dwellers. But the last known location of the story banshee was reported here and so here I was like an idiot.

Banshees were never summoned by circles. That was exclusively reserved for demons. If you wanted a banshee you had to track down its nest and hope you didn't die from your ears bleeding. But I wanted to test my chance, try my luck.

If demons could be summoned, so could Banshees. They were both lower-class Darkfolk, what difference could there be? And so, I was, spending my Sunday evening, drawing circles in the corner of a relatively empty street.

"Alright, all done," I muttered to my familiar, Layla, and she purrs in response, rubbing her midnight fur on my leg, as she stares at me, with unblinking green eyes.

"What?" I ask putting my hands on my hips. Layla was always so sassy, so opinionated and right now she had something to say.

She regards me with those glowing green eyes and again, and I can almost hear her warning me.

This is a bad idea. I know. She knows.

But the old witch Matilda, said she'd pay me handsomely if I tracked down the banshee and brought it back to her (the wicked creature stole the witch's cauldron, serves it right). And since I was in desperate need of money, I'd agreed to do the job. No one else was stupid enough to.

It always came down to the dirty jobs no one wanted to do, that I ended up tasked with. And so was my cursed life.

"I know, I know." I roll my eyes at Layla. "This is an awful idea. But I'm not going to creep into a Banshee nest. That's more dangerous than this, okay?"

Layla assessed me coolly. I groaned, putting my hands on my hips. Hells, but she was a voice of reason to my mayhem.

I take a deep breath and then, I release the chaotic energy brimming inside my chest. The spell won't work if I'm not fully dedicated to my craft. Layla hisses quietly, and then, fluently jumps up and behind the dumpster against the wall.

I check beyond the mouth of the alleyway as oblivious humans scurry passed, eager to get home from work. My shielding runes deviate both sides of the entrance of the alley, creating an illusion as if it were empty.

The last thing I needed was for some mindless human to wander in the middle of my circle.

I plug in my earbuds, the equipment specially designed to block banshee screams and I wrap a leather belt around my wrist. A sharp silver blade hangs on one end, coated in poison fatal to a banshee and the spell for trapping is written on the side of the belt.

I squat by the edge of the circle, my fingers touching one of the points of the pentagram that I'd inscribed the words of the summoning spell. The ground is roughly textured under my fingertips, my ankles press into my thighs and somewhere nearby Layla is hiding.

I inhale deeply, close my eyes and focus my energy, the bustling world around me fades and darkness consumes my vision. All I think about is the screams of the banshee, those soulless empty pits for eyes, the ghastly, floating figure and those wicked claws that rip out throats.

And then I start whispering the incantation, knowing very well the moment I say the words, the runes would light up in an eerily white glow. My body thrums with arcane as it spreads through my veins, like liquid molten, a volcanic eruption almost, spewing hot lava as it burns through my body beneath my skin.

I repeat the spell, over and over, faster and faster, my mouth rapidly moving over the words from memory. Almost done.

I'm on the seventh round when there's a noise.

Something hisses and Layla snarls, I open my eyes without meaning to and then I curse the deepest pits of hell.

A rat. A fucking rat entered my summoning circle. Fucking stupid alleyway and it's cursed inhabitants. What the hell must I do now? I can't enter the circle without disturbing the spell but I can't complete it with that rat still inside.

I glare at the rodent, its ugly ears raised sharply in awareness, its large teeth almost grinning at my failure. I bare my own teeth, growling low but it makes no move.

Layla creeps to me silent as a shadow, her eyes two emerald orbs in the darkness, her soft tail brushing my elbow. She knows better than to step into the circle.

Hells, what now? Living creatures that enter a summoning circle can seriously ruin the spell altogether. It messes with the line's charge and since the rat touched the markings, the entire thing can be altered. If I talk I'll break the spell. If I move, all is lost.

I yank one earbud out angrily. It's no use. I'll have to start again.

I shift onto the balls of my feet, ready to grab the rat when it senses my movement and takes off. I pause when the runes flicker -- a sudden burst of white and black light hits me in the face in an explosion like smoke and I'm thrown backwards. The rough brick wall digs into my spine and my legs crumble beneath me.

I groan in agony from the hit. The earbuds pop out of my ear, destroyed by the impact. Before I can recover, there's a sudden shriek like birds but tenfold the sound. Loud and unforgiving. Bursting through my ears in a wail of fury, echoing through my skull.

There was no way that noise didn't escape.

A horrible moan leaves my lips and I try to sit up. Blinking slowly, I watch the smoke recede and the circle falls back to darkness, the soft glow disappearing. The world stills unnaturally for a second. Passers-by haven't seemed to notice the commotion. The rat is gone and there isn't a banshee in sight. I slump in relief. Maybe no one heard.

The air around me crackles.

Maybe not.

"You are under arrest!" a voice booms.

Two men and one woman step out of thin air, glowering at me. They're dressed in full black attire of long black coats and sturdy pants, heavy boots and hoods pulled over their heads. The man in the middle of the trio steps forward and I notice three violet squares mark his shoulders indicating his superior rank.

I check the remaining man and woman's coat sleeves -- it's loose, indicating they have those horrible whip chains around their arms, accessible enough to arrest me.

The Night Council. Great.

I rise to my feet gingerly, my fingers curling and unfurling. Of course, the Night Council heard the banshee scream, and they teleported right to its source using their fancy tracking devices. Even a rogue witch could be tracked down with one of their hi-tech equipment.

I'm hopelessly outnumbered, unprepared and unarmed. I carried small sheets of inscribed runes, no talisman and no weapons. My best bet was to act doe-eyed and ditzy, and maybe they'd deem me too stupid to be of any suspicion.

"I'm sorry." I lean back against the wall as the three-inch closer, prowling around me like a pack of hyenas.

I'm not dead carcass, yet.

"You must be mistaken," I continue, making my voice innocent and breathless. "I just got here when I heard that awful screeching. Whatever could have caused it?"

I debate batting my eyelashes but it seems overkill.

The council member in front removes his hood, revealing a bald, shiny white head and square face, a sharp goatee covering his chin. His features looked very human overall, but it was the two black lines that crossed the bridge of his hooked nose that gave him away as a wizard.

That and his eyes are silver like the sharp edge of a blade. Those same eyes assess me now, checking me from head to toe. I'm a curious sight, I will admit -- I don't look capable of hauling a banshee but I don't look too guiltless either.

Black skinny jeans and a plaid coat with a tank top underneath, that was my usual ensemble. Today I wore purple, my standard fingerless gloves and combat boots. I had a heavy belt on my waist with easily reachable pounches of rune sheets and potion ingredients.

Black bands covered both my wrists and another band was tied around my unruly dark curls to keep it back. The wizard saw all of this and then his eyes narrowed.

"Elvira Keyrath," he states.

Shit. He knew who I was.

"I'm sorry, what?" I tried.

"You're under arrest for illegal use of magic."

"But I wasn't me!" I say defensively, my voice kicking up a notch. "I just got here and saw this ... this summoning circle. Please understand, I'd never do something like this."

"We know it was you." The other man removes his hood and I scowl.

It was no man, it was Ash. The horrible goody two shoes Wizard apprentice and a friend of my sister's. Ugh. Of all the horribly good people it had to be him with his nasty voice and hipster glasses and badly cut hair. Layla growls, recognising his ugly scent.

"What are you doing here?" I demand.

He ignores me, a smug smirk on his punchable face.

"Elvira," the main wizard barks. "The remains of the magic traces back to you. We have devices that confirm that and we know you tried to summon a demon. Please come without a fight and we can discuss your terms of sentence in a courtly way."

I scoff. They were arresting me. There was nothing courtly about that.

"Yeah," I drawl, raising my hand with the leather belt still wrapped around. "I don't think so."

"Very well," the main wizard says with a sigh as if I were a petulant toddler. "Blair, get her."

Only when the woman released her hood do I realise she was a werewolf. And not a happy one.

"Fucking rat," I swear.