Music is "Rainbow" by Kesha.

Picture is Claudia Doumit as Sarai.

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Bombus Huntii

Commonly referred to as the Hunt bumblebee or Hunt's bumblebee, Bombus Huntii is native to western North America, from as far east as Manitoba and Minnesota and as far south as the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt. They live in a variety of places underground, depending on the terrain, and are very adept to changes in weather and surroundings. B. Huntii can even be found at the tops of volcanoes.

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Chapter Twelve: Huntii

When we get back to the dorm from my few hours at the hospital, Melizza finds me immediately. I can hear her buzzing from yards away. She flies straight for me as Wanda and I enter the room, walking hand-in-hand.

"Your Majesty!" she exclaims, stopping a few inches away from my face. "Are you okay, Your Majesty? I could not find you! You disappeared after the hives started going crazy. To where did you go?" She slows, turning slightly towards Wanda. "Uh oh. Can she see me?"

I smile widely at the little bee, replying, "No need, Melizza. This is Wanda, my roommate and friend. She helped me to the hospital after I fainted."

"And she can be trusted, Sarai?"

I nod. "More than anyone, but there's something you should know. Wanda, she's a witch, but a good one! So, you don't have to be afraid of her."

Melizza buzzes unhappily at the idea of Wanda being a witch, but Wanda smiles softly at the insect and holds out her hand. With her magic, she creates a scarlet flower and offers it to the little bee.

"You must be Melizza," she whispers with kindness. "Thank you for looking after Sarai. You must be very brave."

Melizza puffs out her chest, a hint of pride replacing the uncertainty. She settles down on the magic flower and breathes it in. "I like her," she eventually states. "She can stay."

Wanda turns to me. "Can you ask her if she would mind if I performed a small spell? It will allow me to hear her as you do."

"I don't mind," Melizza replies, still snug on the magic flower.

I turn to Wanda and sign, "She doesn't mind."

Wanda nods and kneels down beside her bed. She pulls a trunk from underneath, opens it, and starts shuffling through. I see multiple bags of spices, crystals, and candles. The trunk is covered in spells, sigils, and symbols. If I needed proof that Wanda was a witch--besides the magic she carried in her veins--this is it.

"What happened with the bees?" I ask Melizza telepathically. "It was quiet, and then the lecture hall exploded with bees. There must have been thousands."

Melizza flies from the magical flower, and it disappears after she leaves. "I do not know, Sarai. I was not there. I was in my hive. When I returned to the yard outside, I saw so many bees. Confused, they were confused and could not remember what had happened. They only remember hearing a cry for help from a Queen. They followed it, not realizing what they were doing."

I lower my gaze in guilt. "I must've called out for them without realizing it. I didn't even know I could do that."

"It was not your fault," Melizza insists. "You are a young Queen with no one to teach you. I did not expect your abilities to awaken so soon. Most Queens spend years without their abilities. I have been told this is what your grandest mother was like."

I cross my arms over my chest. "I wish she were here to help right now."

"Maybe she can be," Melizza states, turning her eyes towards Wanda. "Witches do not work solely with the world of the living. They are able to speak with those who have died as well."

"You think Wanda could contact my grandmother and get her help?"

"It is worth a try, is it not?"

Finding a flicker of hope inside me, I turn and kneel beside Wanda. She's focused on her spell, pulling out various ingredients while muttering to herself. "Damn it, I don't have a blue lace agate," she swears. "I must've left it at the shop."

I catch her attention and sign, "Maybe we can go back and get it. Melizza just gave me an idea that you can help with, one that might lead to some answers about my abilities."

Wanda tilts her head and looks between the little honeybee and me. "All right, looks like we have a plan." She grabs what she needs and stands, offering me a hand. "Let's go to work."

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"So, how did you become a witch?"

Wanda chuckles to herself as we make the short walk from campus to the occult shop where she works. The weather is brisk, but with coats and scarves, we're perfectly okay to make the trip.

"Who told you I became one?" she replies with a small smirk.

"Melizza," I state, using the sign for "bee" and the letter "M" for her name. "She said that a witch isn't born, she's made. How were you made?"

Wanda links her arm through mine and sighs heavily. "Back in Sokovia--where I was born, where I spent the first ten years of my life--life was hard. My family struggled to make ends meet. Sometimes we were kicked out of our apartment because my father couldn't make rent that month. When that happened, Pietro and I would stay with our Baba Inna. Our grandmother. She would take care of us while my parents tried to find us somewhere else to stay. My grandmother was a witch, like me, and she taught me to be one myself.

"She taught me a lot about witchcraft, about tarot and palm-reading, about scrying and reading fortune telling. She gave me basic knowledge about the gods and goddesses, spellwork, and sigil creation. I learned most of what I know from her. One of the greatest things she taught me was blesssings and hexes. In order to become a full-fledged witch, one must be hexed. My grandmother wouldn't do it, but I did it to myself."

"You hexed yourself?"

She nods. "I was a kid. I didn't know any better. I thought it was a game. I didn't realize..." She trails off. "Can I ask you a personal question?" I nod, leading her on. "When did you stop speaking?"

I sigh, my grip on her arm tightening.

"If it's too personal or too soon, then you can just ignore the question."

Shaking my head, I sign, "No, it's okay. I'm surprised you didn't ask earlier." A pause. "I didn't really realize I became a mute until I met Hal in Beirut. I was an orphan living on the streets for four years. I was completely alone. When I was around sixteen, I snuck onto Hal's cargo vessel. He was the captain. He found me, a stowaway, and instead of throwing me off or turning me over to the police, he took me and helped me. When I opened my mouth to talk to him, nothing came out." I shrug. "I haven't spoken since. I guess the trauma of losing my family in the bombing and living alone for four years did a number on me. I've tried, but no therapy ever works."

Wanda's eyes soften, and even though I'm not looking at her, I can feel her gaze on me. "I'm so sorry, Sarai."

I force a sad smile and stare at the street ahead. "Hal was like my second father. Put me in school, gave me a place to live, gave me a new sense of family, helped me catch up and get better. I owed him everything. When he got sick this past spring..." I trail off, realizing by the tears pricking my eyes that the memories are still too painful.

"I wish I had met him."

"You would've liked him."

We come to a stop in front of the occult shop. "What was this spell you thought of again?"

"A summoning spell," I reply. "I read on the internet about them, and Melizza reminded me that witches can talk to the dead. Have you ever done something like this?"

Wanda laughs and opens the door for us. I step through, and she follows. "Not even close. I usually avoid messing with the dead. Necromancy is some serious magic for one witch, but don't worry. I have some help."

Out of the back room come two familiar figures. I instantly recognize them both from my math class and various other places I've been on campus. One smiles politely while the other smirks mischievously. Stephen Strange stands with a hefty spellbook in one hand, and Loki Odinson is polishing a small dagger from a box behind the counter.

"Glad to see you up and around," Stephen states to me with a nod. "You really freaked Wanda out, Sarai."

Remembering Stephen is one of the few people I've met that can't understand sign language, I just smile and nod my thanks.

Wanda steps in and says, "Boys, she knows about magic. She knows I'm a witch. And now, she probably knows you're sorcerers, too."

Both of their faces turn serious, Loki's more into a scowl than Stephen's perplexed look. "You told her?" Loki asks in a quiet, harsh voice. His eyes narrow at me as he continues to play with the knife in his hand. "That's our one rule, Wanda. It's us three and no one else. You don't bring in outsiders. Even I can follow that rule."

"He's right," Stephen agrees, all hint of his welcome gone from his tone. "You shouldn't have brought her here. We don't let non-magical people in our circle. You know that."

"I do know that," Wanda retorts. "And I haven't. Sarai is magic, just not in the same way as us."

The young med student's eyes widen in surprise, and he looks me over. "She can't be. I would've sensed it. I'm always looking for others like us, but the only two I have ever come across are you and Loki."

"Her magic is different," Wanda defends, grasping my hand tighter. "Her magic is familial, not hex-based. She got her's from her grandmother. Her mother was a witch, and she put a protection spell on Sarai so she would never know the truth. The spell broke when we met." Wanda turns to me. "I think I may have broken it without realizing it. The reason you started waking up the day you came here, that was because of me."

I mull over the thought, coming to the conclusion that she's probably right. Melizza said she didn't know what caused the spell to break, but she didn't know that Wanda was a witch, either. Just Wanda's presence alone might've been enough to counter my mother's work. Wanda was the one that broke the spell, and everything else after that starts to make sense.

"What kind of magic does she have?" Stephen inquires. "Chaos, like you? Mischief, like Loki? Or Nepalian sorcery, like me?"

"Her magic is completely different from all of those. Sarai, show them Melizza."

I pull back my collar, letting the little honeybee show herself to the other magicians. She flies into the space between us, and Stephen stares closely.

"Bee magic?"

I nod, and Melizza lands on my outstretched hand. I let her crawl onto my shoulder.

"Sort of. I'll explain as we go. Right now, we need your help," she finishes. "I can't summon the dead by myself. We need both of you. Are you up for it?"

Stephen sighs and turns to Loki. Loki shrugs, and Stephen turns back to Wanda with a nod. "We're in."

Wanda smiles proudly and glances sideways at Loki. "Quit sharpening the athames, Odinson. We have the dead to summon."

END CHAPTER TWELVE.