From the outside, the train waiting to bring us to New York was sleek, skinny, and shiny—a masterpiece of modern magical engineering. Powered by Magitech, it could make the journey of five hundred miles in just under an hour.

The inside of the train was more nostalgic than modern, a throwback to an earlier era. Rows of large benches, covered with a luxurious layer of red velvet, were bolted to a hardwood floor. On either side of the train carriage, large glass windows framed in wood provided a view of the passing landscapes, though it was too dark outside to see much at the moment. Elegant iron lanterns dangled from the ceiling, swaying gently as the train sped along to its destination.

Calli shared a bench with Tessa and Gin, and Bella and I sat together the next row back. Bella had changed out of her summer dress in favor of a very smart skirt suit in the witch style. The hip-hugging pencil skirt was navy blue. So was the fitted jacket she wore over a cream-colored blouse. A brooch with the witch’s rune for knowledge was pinned at the blouse’s neckline. Black knee-high laced boots and white gloves topped off her wardrobe, and her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled up into a lovely twist.

“You look perfect,” I told her. “You’re going to blow them all away.”

Bella smoothed out a crease in her skirt, then refolded her hands on her lap. “I hope you’re right.”

“You were made for this, Bella. One hundred percent.”

Bella laughed. It was a very well-mannered laugh. The witches of the New York University of Witchcraft, themselves very proper ladies and gentlemen, would have approved. Witchcraft wasn’t just about mixing potions to cast complex spells. It was about doing it in style. Of all the branches of supernatural society, the witches were the most dignified, the most chic. Bella embodied this ideal, right down to the corset she was wearing. It had taken a good half hour for me and Bella to figure out that piece of bone-crunching engineering and get her into it. The process had involved a great deal of pushing, pulling, contorting, and swearing. From me. Bella had borne it all with dignity and grace, even though I was sure it must have hurt her at least as much as it had hurt me.

“Can you breathe in that thing?” I asked her.

“As long as I sit up really straight.”

I laughed.

“I’m sure one gets used to it after a while,” she added.

“Or one loses all feeling in the midsection.”

“I’m sure there’s a potion to help with that.”

Just then, the man with the snack cart rolled past, and we each ordered a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee. We would need an abundance of sugar and caffeine if we were going to make it through this long night.

We arrived at the New York City train station promptly at two o’clock in the morning. Though it was the middle of the night, the station was bustling with activity, passengers rushing this way and that, getting on and off of trains. I’d been to the city a few times before, and every time was just the same. Just as fast and frenzied. Just as overwhelming. Calli led the way through the station, fearless as ever.

“Amazing,” Tessa said, looking up at the station’s high ceilings, beautifully arched and crafted from glass.

Gin nodded. This was their first time here, and pure wonder shone through their eyes. And if I took a moment to overlook the crowds overwhelming my senses, I couldn’t help but appreciate the station’s beauty too. It was as stylish as the train, that same mix of nostalgic elegance and modern style. Beautiful white marble floors spread out in every direction.

A painted scene out of Earth’s history covered each and every wall, the timeline progressing as we made our way through the station. It began with the monsters overrunning the Earth. Next came a scene of the gods coming down to save humanity, giving us gifts of magic and technology. The new army of supernaturals followed. Several walls featured their battles against the monsters, driving them away, deep into the world’s Wastelands. Paintings showed new cities growing and old ones being rebuilt. A new society was born, one with supernaturals in it.

The final hall of paintings was grander and more colorful than the rest. On the ceilings, the gods sat on their thrones in the clouds. The walls showed the angels in their terrible, gorgeous glory. No human could be that beautiful—or that cruel.

Light shone down from the gods’ on the ceiling, illuminating the angels in shimmering streams of glitter and magic. Their wings twinkled like diamond snowflakes. They shone like rainbows and sparkled like the ocean. And they glowed like fire. Each angel held a sword and a shield, which they used to battle the monsters and demons surrounding groups of frightened humans. A repeating line of text below the angels read, ‘The shield of the gods’ mercy, the sword of the gods’ justice.’ It was very beautifully-painted propaganda.

We walked under the arched exit of the train station, passing witches in their tights and skirts, boots and feathered hats. The male witches wore vests or long coats, and an assortment of other accessories like canes, top hats, goggles, and pocket watches. The witches were the world’s engineers and inventors, scientists and doctors, pilots and professors—and all that thinking and tinkering they did in style.

They weren’t the only ones walking the streets tonight. Vampires were out in full force. Like Mark, they wore silk and leather. Their hair was perfectly styled; their skin seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. They walked in groups, flashing charming smiles at anyone who caught their interest.

“Good evening, my dear,” one of them said to me. His eyes had taken on that distinctive silver-blue sheen. His friends’ eyes had turned too, and they were all staring at my hair.