Chapter 12

11:15 AM September 13th 2026

35,000ft Altitude between New York City and Washington DC

Camina laughed, really laughed, at the snarky comment her seat partner made. He’d been regaling her with stories about his own high school indiscretions, and it made her issues with Anna pale by comparison. Though...Samantha...Samantha and her patron gift Gleipnir gave Camina ulcers on a regular basis still.

“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head at the young man who’d been so eager to cheer her up.

“Swear on a stack of Bibles.” The young man held out a hand in front of his face to emphasize the height of the stack he would swear on. “We turned her desk transparent, and she was feeding a nest...an entire freaking nest...of micro-sparrows in her drawer.”

“Oh, wow.” The woman chuckled and shook her head appreciatively. “Thanks so much for sharing some of your misadventures with me. I feel less worried about the one and only fight that Anna’s been in.”

“Anytime.” The young man smiled hugely almost shy for a second. “I mean, come on. How often does a guy get to say that he cheered up his hero with embarrassing stories of his childhood?” He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

“True.” The woman nodded in agreement. “That’s true. But I can’t possibly be your hero.”

“No. No. I mean. Yes.” He laughed and corrected himself. “Camina Watkins. You are my hero. And probably a lot of other people’s hero also. But I want to be, I’m trying to be, an embedded journalist....”

“Really?!” Camin felt briefly guilty for thinking earlier that his interest had been purely because he’d been a Gore Groupie, someone who liked watching monster battles simply because of the blood and guts.

“Yes, really. And people like me can’t do what they do without people like you to protect us.” He had that determined look in his eyes that said he wasn’t going to cry even if his hero said something shitty that might squash his dreams.

“Oh. You are going to do wonderfully if you keep thinking like that. Just remember that warriors and adventurers can fail and that you will be in danger.” The young man had been so honest and vulnerable that she smiled kindly at him. “I hope you have some basic self-defense abilities?”

“Yes. I’ve had my Tier Four license for a few years now. Though I had to leave my wand at home since you can’t get a license to bring a wand or magical item on a plane until – ”

“Tier Six.” Carmina volunteered. This was something she was familiar with. Magical law and restrictions. “Something that drives any frequent flier warlock batty, are the security protocols around the transport of magical conductors on passenger transports. It’s one of the reasons I hate traveling as a civilian.” The young man nodded emphatically.

“While I’ve never flown as anything but a civilian,” he started “I’ve got nothing to compare it to. But I hate the lines, the waiting, never knowing who you will sit next to. It’s a complete lottery unless you’re traveling in a party. And arrival and departure times are not guaranteed.”

As he finished distractedly, he looked out the window now that something dawned on him. He craned his neck and angled his head to get a better look out the window. He’d finally noticed the change, and Camina waited for him to comment on it as he checked the time on his phone.

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“You know, I’ve been so distracted talking to you, I didn’t notice that we were supposed to have landed by now.” He scratched at his head with confusion. “I could have sworn I felt us turning in preparation for landing a little bit ago.”

“Don’t be loud about it.” Camina smiled and kept her voice conversationally low. “I noticed us changing direction several minutes ago. We seem to have been redirected to another airport and the captain has chosen not to tell us passengers. Why do you suppose that might be?” The young man thought about it for a few seconds before his eyes went round.

“Well, shit!” He exclaimed quietly and dropped his hands into his lap. “That’s bad.” Camina chuckled at his calm response. He’d do well as an embedded journalist with the Magicorps. She’d had to work with people who wouldn’t have reacted with even half as much aplomb as this young man.

“Eh. It’s not good, but it’s not necessarily awful.” Camina amended. “We know it’s not really bad yet.” She commented cheerily and he gave her a twisted look of doubt.

“How could we possibly know that?” He was skeptical, but Camina was prepared and held up her phone with a grin.

“No one’s called for me yet.” But her grin only lasted for a few seconds before her seatmate shot back.

“You’re assuming there’s anyone left to call you.” She’d just been playing around, trying to cheer up and reassure the young man who was undoubtedly going to be upset about their flight being redirected. A catastrophe of that level never even crossed her mind. For a moment she was stunned, then shook her head in disbelief.

“No.” She paused, then repeated the word again as if to dispel any chance of such a reality. “No. My patron would have let me know if it was something like that.” Pausing, Camina frowned. “You know, I’m sorry, I just realized that I forgot to ask your name.”

“Oh.” The aspiring journalist exclaimed. “I’m sorry. My bad. I was so star-struck I totally forgot to introduce myself.” He wiped peanut salt off his hand on the front of his worn lightweight jacket.

She noticed for the first time, the many-pocketed vest showing beneath. A vest like the kind all her embedded journalists wore when they followed her on a campaign. The pockets bulged with camera equipment that was probably a pain to get through airport security. Camina hesitated as she absorbed more about this young man, dedicated to his career even when off the job. Finally, she smiled and took the proffered hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Camina Wattkins.” They shook as the young man finally provided his name.

“Hi, Camina. I’m Jim Thafesh, aspiring embedded journalist for the Magicorps. And I’m your biggest fan.” He shook her hand enthusiastically for probably longer than he should have then winced sheepishly through the grin that was splitting his face before finally letting go. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Well, Mister Thafesh, the Magicorps is always on the lookout for talented people. Why don’t you show me some of your work? If you have any yet that is?” She hadn’t thought Jim’s grin could get any bigger, yet somehow it did.

“It’s mostly just projects for school. I’m at NYU, just heading back after an internship in DC over the Summer. But, yeah, sure. I’d love to. Please don’t be too harsh?”

The last bit was a little pleading and Camina smiled with indulgent reassurance. This charming young man reminded her of her son Kyle. Chronologically, he was probably a few years younger. Practically, Kyle hadn’t really ever been young. Always a level of maturity and cautiousness that Jim didn’t exude at all.

“I promise I will not judge the work of a student harshly.” And she didn’t. He did good stable camera work. The exposures on his photos were great. The video was in focus and not shaky. He didn’t use any obnoxious filters. And his articles were factual, and non-biased while hitting all the right emotional buttons. Most importantly, he was already a level four magical license holder at the young age of twenty with an extreme sports enthusiast’s nerves of steel and adrenaline addiction.

A plan began to form in her mind. A plan that she was not proud of herself for having. No. It wasn’t even coherent enough to be called a plan. Just a sense of knowing that this young man was the kind of person her superiors wished her children had been.

I can work with this. Camina thought a little selfishly. This one can be molded for greatness.