The living room was strange. It contained everything you’d expect in one: a TV, couch, and bookshelf, but it looked like both a lab and a library had exploded around them.

“Erm, excuse the mess,” the suspected werewolf said and shoved boxes filled to the brim with empty vials from his couch so we could sit. “Work kind of overwhelms everything. I’m sure you can understand.”

I nodded, Daniel was too busy squinting around the room suspiciously. I don’t think he trusted where this was going.

“Cookie?” he offered, the plate was much lighter now, half the cookies having gone to Bubbles as soon as he made it to the door.

I hesitated to accept, it was a complete stranger who was at least weird enough to guide his guest by dog, after all. Otherwise, he wasn’t very frightening, though he did have that look of detached obsession, his beard and hair unkempt, though not quite as terrible as mine. Ignoring everything my mother ever taught me, I took a cookie from the obviously questionably sane man. He smiled at me and offered the plate to Daniel.

“So whose grandma did you kill for this place?” Daniel asked while taking a handful of cookies.

Looking closer, beneath the vials, burners, and books, there were indeed the telltale signs of habitation by an aging woman, though layered by years of dust. The walls had a pink floral wallpaper border and cross-stitched pictures of kittens playing with bumble bees.

“It was my grandmother’s house, she left it to me. I didn’t kill her for it though,” the man answered.

“You sure? Those are some awesome cross-stitched cats, my grandma should watch her back if she picks up any of those,” Daniel joked.

He chuckled and patted Daniel on the shoulder. “I see you’re the funny one, bet you’d like a beer?”

“Any man that doesn’t like a beer isn’t a man,” Daniel proclaimed solemnly.

The man disappeared into the kitchen followed by the sound of him rummaging through his fridge and the hiss of an opening can.

“This guy is awesome. Free cookies and a beer, I don’t care if he does end up making sweet, awkward love to you.”

Always good to see Daniel had his priorities all figured out.

“Here you go, ice cold, was in the very back of the fridge,” the man said, returning with the beer already poured out into a bar glass.

Daniel, being ever the show off for how manly he is, downed it in three huge gulps, and then promptly passed out. He dropped the glass between him and the couch, it teetered uneasily on a stack of books and revealed a fine white powder dusted the bottom of the glass. I slowly closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that it was just a coincidence and that the guy wasn’t about to take advantage of his unconscious state.

“Oh good, worked like a charm,” he said, a noted sigh of relief in his voice. “I’m still a little shaky on that particular potion, haven’t quite figured out the ratios.”

“Why exactly did you drug him?” I asked, a little afraid that Daniel’s joking had hit the mark.

“Oh, he was an idiot,” he said simply.

“Well, I agree he can be sometimes, but usually people don’t just knock out people they don’t like,” I pressed, uneasy as Daniel began to let out small snores.

“True, but normally people don’t bring friends when they’ve already been told weren’t welcome,” he countered.

My heart skipped a beat. That pretty much sealed it, this guy was my werewolf.

“That doesn’t matter now though, he should be out long enough for us to talk without his idiocy and unique brand of humor interrupting us.”

“Talk about what?” I asked, wetting my lips out of excitement.

“Well first, I should confess something,” he began and settled into an armchair facing me, “I’m not really a werewolf, though I can make myself look like one.”

I felt like someone let all the air out of me, I slumped forward and sighed.

“Yes, I figured that would disappoint you, but I promise what I have to tell you will more than make up for it. Will you listen?”

I nodded, but I doubted what he had to say would lessen the disappointment much.

“There’s no real good way to explain it, so... Bubbles!” he called.

The retriever fumbled his way into the room, cookie crumbs all over his lips. The man gave the dog a pat on the head then leaned over him, murmuring deeply under his breath while pouring a small vial filled with teal liquid into Bubble’s mouth. Before my eyes the appearance of the dog began to warp and change. His fur became longer and more course, his stature seemed to grow and expand and his snout narrowed, elongating into the shape of a wolf’s. I was once again staring at my werewolf, only this time the dim eyes of Bubbles still shone through.

“It is a simple illusion, a glamour if you will,” he explained as his chanting stopped, “It will last about five minutes if I got the wording right. Some spells are so fickle, even more so when paired with a potion. I trust my potions, but well, spoken word tries to give me more difficulties. I doubt it would work at all without the potion really, to be honest, I’m not sure if my words really have much impact on the effect at all.” He frowned and seemed to carefully ponder if that was indeed true.

I had no idea what to say. Seeing magic, real magic for the first time tries to shatter your grip on reality. I had wholeheartedly believed in the existence of werewolves and should have believed in magic by association, it seemed to be a requirement, but it still always seemed like the stuff of fantasy novels and movies.

“I found it five years ago. My grandma had left my grandfather’s books in the basement. One of them was his journal, seems he was a fledgling wizard and everyone else neglected to mention it. Long story short, I started trying to reproduce what he had written about. You think you’re surprised now, imagine how I felt when I lit my first candle from across the room,” he laughed to himself, “You’ll know in time I suppose.”

“What does this have to do with me?” I asked once my mouth caught up with my brain.

He smiled and sat back, admiring the way Bubbles was completely transformed, though the dog seemed largely unimpressed.

“There’s few people who have what it takes to learn magic; at least I think so, not like I have too much to go off of. However, I am sure that I have my obsessive devotion to thank for my success so far. Had I been less into it or lazy about learning it, I would have blown myself up or given up long ago.”

“You want to teach me because of my obsessive qualities? How did you even find me?” I asked.

“Well, in order to explain how I found you, I might have to let you find out a bit more about magic first, I don’t think you’d really understand right now. Let’s just leave it as there are very specific ways that magically receptive people stand out. As for your obsessive qualities, you could put it that way, though I can’t teach you. Magic isn’t like riding a bike or chess, a mentor who knows the words already is a hindrance,” he explained, “I’m not sure what to compare it to in order to make it clearer.”

He stroked his quarter-foot long beard thoughtfully, giving a kick to Daniel’s shin to ensure he was still fast asleep. He gave a loud snore in response and muttered something about a beer-filled hot tub.

“Ah, here we go, think about a really tough math assignment that you just don’t get, but you’re smart enough to figure out over time. Sure, the tutor can point you in the right direction and from there you can get the assignment done pretty quickly and most likely correct, but if you had figured it out yourself and really tried to understand, you’d have taken longer and gotten more wrong, but you would have a deeper base understanding of why and how it works that way. Make any sense?”

“I guess, but how do you know? You didn’t have a mentor to compare to.”

He picked up a very old looking leather bound book from the overcrowded coffee table.

“This is my grandfather’s journal and my magic bible,” he said, tapping the cover for emphasis, “I have no other reference or as complete an account as this and he says it’s true. I can only assume until I have strong evidence otherwise that it is.”

“Does it also say you have to be dirty and have way too much beard?” Daniel said groggily. The potion was wearing off and he had regained control of at least part of his consciousness. “Also, fucking strong beer, I need some of that for parties, Mr….”

“Just call me Alan,” he said with a frown, producing a notepad and pen. He began to jot down notes. “That potion was supposed to last much longer, how long have you been conscious?”

“I wouldn’t really call it conscious, but I was dreaming about a hot tub full of girls and you two were sitting in it too having some conversation about magic and being nerds,” he said, getting his fingers to wiggle a little.

Alan nodded, jotting down something. “Not enough cold medicine, sounds like,” he murmured to himself.

“I hate to tell you this, but an overdose of cough syrup doesn’t equal a potion exactly,” Daniel pointed out.

The wizard waved this away, closing his notebook and putting it back in his pocket. “Trust me, if you knew all that was in it, you’d be trying to throw up right now.”

Daniel snorted arrogantly in response, but his face went a little pale.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “I test feed all potions to Bubbles first. Revive potions for dogs are somewhat easy, humans tend to just come back as zombies.” He trailed off, then coughed after a moment of deep thought. “Point is, Bubbles ate a good helping of it and was fine.”

Bubbles burped as if on cue, his illusion already starting to fade. He chased his tail once, licked his butt, and flopped over for a nap. Alan sighed and shook his head at his magical test subject.

“Why the lame-ass name?” Daniel asked, head still too heavy for him to lift off the arm of the couch.

“He was grandma’s dog and hasn’t answered to anything else. He’s too dumb to learn a new name, he barely knows how to fetch.” The dog farted loudly in his sleep. “That started as a side-effect of the mind control elixir, guess it’s permanent now,” he sighed. “With no solid recipes I can’t be sure of all the side-effects or outcomes and some of it hasn’t been very intuitive. I had to find out through trial and error that cough syrup was the right base for the mind control. Kind of fitting that it’s the base for mind control and inducing immediate sleep.”

Daniel weakly forced himself to sit upright, then fell over again. He grunted and gave up, not like he wasn’t used to being in lesser control of his limbs.

“I’m supposed to figure this all out myself? Even after years of experimenting, you made a mistake on a simple sleeping potion?” I questioned uncertainly. If he still had trouble, I was pretty certain that there was little hope for me.

“Simple?” he laughed a little bitterly, “Do you have any understanding of how complex humans are?” He stared at me for a moment, considering if I did. “Probably not, it’s not something most people consider often, but even the people who seem to be the biggest simpletons are still complex enough to require a personalized recipe,” he explained with a slight nod towards Daniel. “Take him for example, I assume the beer was a correct choice, but something else I couldn’t foresee was off with him. Normally, Bubbles goes right to sleep on a similar formula and gets back up after an hour like nothing happened. Nothing in magic is ever simple.”

I nodded, though I couldn’t say I really understood. It was hard enough for me to try to reconcile the fact that magic existed, telling me that it was so complex was like telling me the unicorn next door likes to salsa dance. I have to believe that the unicorn actually exists before I can invite him out dancing.

“This isn’t all just some elaborate prank?” I asked, giving a wane smile. “No offense, Daniel, but I wouldn’t put it past you to set something like this up to mess with me.”

“I swear, I wish more than you can imagine that I had thought this up,” he said, flopping his head over to look at me. “Besides, do you think I make it a habit to hang out with creepy, obsessive guys with bad hygiene? Besides you of course.”

Alan cleared his throat loudly and frowned at Daniel, not too happy with the adjectives attached to him. Always reliant on his good looks to get him out of every situation, Daniel offered a sheepish smile, but no apology. The self-proclaimed wizard rolled his eyes and turned back to me, giving Daniel a “whatever” with a wave of his hand.

“No tricks, no pranks, the only plan I can confess to is leading you here under the guise of the werewolf. I assure you that my motives have been honorable and only with good intentions. Are you willing to take the risk that I’m telling the truth to you?” he asked. He sat back in his chair and appeared to be gauging my reaction.

Trust a guy who pretended to be a werewolf through his golden retriever? He believes magic is real and he wants to start me on the path to being a wizard? I suppose I was willing to believe in and chase werewolves, how much crazier would I really be for adopting all this truth too? Once you start on the path of madness, the way becomes easier with every step.

“Why not? I’ve chased werewolves and made a near-useless bum of myself so far, what’s another obsession to stoke the fire?” I conceded.

“You’ll grow into it, but for now I’m going to let you figure it out for yourself. I can’t be sure how much to tell you is too much, so I copied the relevant excerpts from the journal that helped get me started. If you can get anywhere with it, then we’ll talk about you reading the rest of it. Until then, I won’t just let anyone see it,” he said and handed me the sheets.

Thumbing through the inch high stack, the print was clear on the pages, but still near illegible. Either the grandfather had constant seizures or had been a doctor at some point.

“Might take a couple days to decipher. I made sure not to give you anything potion related until you’ve gotten used to the writing; no use in risking mistaking an ingredient and turning yourself into a llama for who knows how long,” he half-joked and stood up. “Now, I have practice of my own, the only safe time is at night when people are less likely to snoop around. I hate to kick you out, but thanks for playing follow the retriever. Let me know how it goes and feel free to take a cookie on the way out.”

“Erm, what about him?” I nodded toward Daniel, who had finally managed enough to keep his head upright.

“Oh right, hm, I have a feeling that’s not going to wear off until the time I had intended for him to wake up. I would normally say there’s a wheelbarrow in the garage and good luck, but I like you too much to make you have to put up with carting him home,” he said and grabbed his keys from the coffee table. “I haven’t driven in a while, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m terrible. With the miracles of modern technology I can get bulk macaroni and cheese delivered right to my door, who needs to leave anymore?”

That sealed it, though I was still pretty sure he was out to lunch, we were still kindred spirits. I found myself wishing I had thought of having my ramen delivered directly to me.

“Hey, help me drag him to the door,” he said to me, unceremoniously pushing Daniel from the couch to the floor. “Don’t worry about being gentle, he shouldn’t feel a thing and if he does, he can suck it up.”

“You do remember I’m conscious, right? You don’t have to talk like I’m asleep or not here, or maybe this is what death is like. If it is, I want a refund. I’m not dead, right guys?” Daniel asked with a little laugh.

We both ignored him, pretending not to have heard anything. Daniel’s face went pale and he strained to move his neck enough to study our faces. I did my best to look determined, but melancholy.

“Shit, I die at the hands of two bums. I always thought I’d die in some strange chick’s bed of alcohol poisoning or a lover coming home early. Life isn’t fair,” he muttered.

The two of us managed to get him through the kitchen and into the connecting garage, not taking many precautions to keep his head from bumping into things along the way. Alan unlocked and opened the back door of what seemed to be the manifestation of every stereotype of an old lady’s car, complete with bobble head cats along the back window. I stuffed Daniel in the backseat as best I could, face up so he could breath. I didn’t want his actual death on my conscience.

“That’ll work,” Alan said and motioned for me to follow him to the garage door. “Help me move all these boxes out of the way. Careful though, some of these are ingredients and glassware I haven’t sorted yet.”

I carefully helped him re-stack the boxes that blocked in the car along the already overpopulated sides. I wondered how much of it was supplies and not just the normal garage junk everyone seems to collect. I wasn’t sure I was prepared to realize the how deep I was potentially getting myself into. I got a good idea by how every one of the boxes clinked of glass on glass when I picked them up.

“Thanks, now let’s get this body dumped before it stinks up my grandma’s car,” he said loudly.

Any guy who can help me get even a small percentage of revenge on Daniel couldn’t be all bad, the way the blood further rushed from his face really tickled me. Neither of us said anything as we buckled in and Alan started the car, I assumed from the silence in the back, Daniel was quietly accepting that he was indeed dead.

I gave directions to my apartment and lowered my voice to suggest that we drop the body off at the steps of his apartment and added that no one would question that it was a case of him boozing to death. I heard Daniel’s breathing quicken behind me.

“Hey, I’m breathing,” he offered shakily, “corpses don’t breath, right? Maybe ghosts do though, out of habit… shit, that doesn’t help at all.”

At his apartment steps, I took great care to look panicked and anxious, looking up and down the street before yanking open the back door and pulling Daniel from the backseat. I quickly positioned him and dashed back to the car, motioning hurriedly to drive. Alan played his part well by slamming on the gas as soon as my door closed.

“How long do you think he’ll lay there?” I asked with a snicker.

“That doesn’t matter, did you see the look on his face? Priceless! I need to write down that potion when I get home. I know it seems kind of mean, but he seems like the douchebag type anyway,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. Sometimes he means well, but even then he has to flip it around at your expense,” I explained. “All in all, I feel good about it, I never got any real revenge before.”

He nodded, but pursued his lips together into a thin line. “That’s one thing I think I should warn you about beforehand. Don’t try to use magic of any kind of revenge, especially not at the beginning. You might not understand right now, but getting a spell to do what you want it to with even the most noble intentions is very difficult and can backfire. Revenge spells are even harder and when they do backfire, it’s not too pretty. Got it?”

I nodded, I doubted I would even be able to get any sort of magic to work for me. If I did manage it, through some miracle, I was certain I’d be too shocked to think about applying it to anything like that.

We pulled up at the front of my apartment building and Alan handed me the copied journal pages. I looked up towards my window on the fourth floor and found myself wishing I didn’t have to face it. My life over the past three years had kind of turned out to be a waste, my werewolf didn’t exist. Sure, I was theoretically going to have a chance at learning magic, which was awesome, but it came at the cost of having to face that my obsession looked like it might have to end.

“So, uh, good luck,” Alan said awkwardly, not understanding my silence and presence still in the car.

“Thanks,” I said and got out without looking back.

I heard him drive off and I had no real choice but to climb the stairs, open the door, and face the end of a failed era. I wish I could say that it didn’t sting, but for reasons I didn’t quite understand fully, the thought of doing it almost made me want to cry. Part of me wanted to walk all the way back to where I had left Daniel, but that would have ruined the prank and I would have never heard the end of being afraid of my own apartment. No, there was no choice but to suck it up and put on my big boy pants, the kind without the butt flap.