Getting actually into Pendle Proper was an arse. Of course, a lot of work had to be put in to make sure that humans didn't accidentally get into a witch village, but the entire community was a few miles up a broken road that was signposted as private farmland. To add all the extra security for a village of fewer than 1,000 people that was so far off the beaten track no one would ever find it by accident seemed like overkill to Arran.

He had gotten through security at the sprawling and twisting Indoor City that hid across London in half the time that it took to get through the succession of metal detectors, concealment revealing spells and an unreasonably long wait time to get into the village.

Finally, after twenty very dull minutes, he and Naomi arrived at the short queue to sign in. She had initially found even the most mundane magic fascinating, asking the bored looking witch about the incantations that he murmured as he waved his lapis lazuli studded baton over her limbs. After a few unsuccessful attempts at getting the attendant to talk she had given up and joined Arran in sitting in silence.

He felt bad. She had been very excited to see more magic but this was an awful introduction. The worn grey carpet and chairs with yellow foam peeking through thin, overstretched fabric could have been from any waiting room in the country. Even the crystal wands that were used to detect concealment spells were ugly and uniform. The blue gems were inlaid into matte black rubber to keep them insulated. They didn't exactly look magical.

They were called forward to the desk by a middle-aged witch who didn't even look up as he waved them over. Taking a glance at the man's paperwork Arran could see that some of the answers to the form for him and Naomi had been filled out by the witches who had screened them through security, including erroneously marking Arran's species as VG1, the code for normal vampires.

"Names?" said the man, who wasn't wearing the name badge that was supposed to identify him.

"Arran Redfern and Naomi Fall," answered Arran. "But just so you know, I'm a VG3, someone's put down VG1 on your form."

The witch let out an incredibly long sigh and then looked up to give Arran a stern look with pursed lips.

Arran could feel the tell-tale pressure of his long-standing annoyance with witches build up. Nothing had even happened but a lifetime of being treated at best as an inconvenience and at worst as a disgrace simply for existing had ingrained a tension in him. Whenever he was face to face with a witch he was always just a few degrees cool of boiling over.

It was a cycle. It was why controversial vampires like Gavrail Valentinov got so much attention; they built on the deep-seated frustrations of vampires and legitimised the mistrust of witches. If Arran had full control of his emotions he would gladly dismiss anger he felt stirring within him as he knew that they weren't helpful, but eighteen years worth of build up was hard to shake.

"I'm going to have to fill out the whole form again," said the man through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," Arran replied.

He wasn't sorry, it had had nothing to do with him. The species section was meant to be self-reported so it certainly wasn't Arran's fault that some witch had decided to fill it out ahead of time. More to the point, there was no reason that the sign-in witch couldn't just cross out the wrong information and rewrite it. The forms were simply going to be filed at the end of the day and shipped to an admin building where they would sit being a fire risk for the next decade or so.

He could feel Naomi's eyes on him but now wasn't the time to get into it. He draped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her arm, trying to signify that there was nothing to worry about.

The witch found a new form and made a big show of copying down the information from the old one.

"Right. You, just you," said the witch to Arran, "name?"

"Arran Redfern."

"No middle names or previous names or common aliases?"

"Uh, Crisiant. That's my middle name. No other names."

"Please remember that it is an offence to give false or incomplete information, Mr Redfern."

Arran had never been asked to give his full name before. Between the fact that he and his mother were the only vampires with the last name Redfern and the fact that his sub-species was limited to his immediate family he didn't think it would be hard to identify exactly who he was. He certainly wasn't hiding anything.

He bit back the desire to explain this to the witch and instead spelt out his middle name. He wasn't about to wait for him to find another piece of paper just because his name was unusual.

Arran finished answering questions about his age, both biological and chronological even though it should have been obvious that the number would be the same, his abilities and his "coven allegiance" which was the least personal way to say family that Arran had ever heard.

It was painfully slow and anal, but eventually, it was over and the pedantic witch started on Naomi's paperwork.

"Mr Redfern, please remove your arm from the human and let her speak freely," said the witch.

Arran complied and shifted away from Naomi uncomfortably. His family talent for mind control was surely the offending factor here, even though he couldn't do it in any capacity beyond slight memory loss. He supposed it was for the best, if he were harbouring any secret powers they would need to make sure that the human girl was in his company willingly.

"Now Miss-"

"It's actually Ms," interjected Naomi. "And my middle name is Aretta, A-R-E-T-T-A, since you need to be so specific."

Arran stifled a laugh. Clearly the unnecessary manner with which he had been treated hadn't been lost on Naomi. She stood with her arms crossed and her head tilted to the side, expectant and impatient. He wanted to tell her not to push it but he thought it best to show willing and let her speak freely, as the witch had put it.

"Okay, Ms Fall. I would like to advise you that the witch council is dedicated to protecting humanity and if you are not here of your own volition we can detain this vampire and offer you protection. Please note that not taking this opportunity will not preclude you from seeking help in the future, but we do urge you to tell us now if you have any concerns for your own safety or the safety of any other human."

He rattled off the speech like he had it memorised in a fake, customer-service voice that didn't match his previously bored intonation. Though Arran had never been through a checkpoint with a human before, he had never overheard this protocol before.

"I'm fine, thank you," replied Naomi as she unfolded her arms and fixed her hair uncomfortably.

"Are you sure?" he asked, fixing his stare on the barely visible scar that could now be seen on her forearm. "Is that a claim mark?"

Arran didn't think that he'd ever explained to her what a claim mark was since they'd been illegal in the UK for over a century. It had been a very popular way of arresting vampires back in the early twentieth century; they were allowed to bite humans within reason but if they accidentally left even the slightest scar they could be accused of leaving a claim mark, the preferred way of denoting ownership of a human in the Napoleonic era.

The whole concept seemed like a relic, like learning that the Vikings were rapists, horrible but very far buried in the past. Naomi's scar didn't even look like a bite mark, so he had never thought about it. But now he felt the tension in his stomach spread out through his body like a petrifying poison. He had bitten her, he had left a scar. If he was arrested now it would put an end to their holiday, even though he could prove his innocence.

Naomi didn't miss a beat though, clearly not trusting this man on instinct. She pointed at her scar with her other hand as if confused and then held it toward the witch for him to see.

"This? This is from a bike accident when I was like 11."

The witch looked at the scar carefully, as if he were an expert and for far too long.

Out of anxiety, Arran tried to open up his mind's eye a little and peek into the witch's head. The witch was trying very hard to find a reason to detain or delay them but he couldn't justify anything given that there was no evidence that Arran could control minds and even if he could, his memory control was touched based and he wasn't touching Naomi any more. Moreover, the scar on Naomi's wrist looked strange, but not like a bite at all so that wasn't an avenue to take.

Arran closed the connection, equal parts relieved and unnerved. The witch had been convinced that it was worth trying to find a reason to arrest Arran even if there was little evidence to suggest a crime had been committed. It was unsettling to learn that council employees weren't even a little bothered about wasting resources for even the smallest chance of conviction.

Begrudgingly, the witch continued his questioning and approved both of them to go through into the village. Even though he wanted to, Arran didn't take Naomi's hand until they were through the final set of doors and outside.

Pendle Proper was pretty, it couldn't be denied. Despite cashing in on the history of the Pendle Hill witches for tourism purposes, the settlement hadn't become a witch-only village until the 19th century but it still had a much older feel to it. This was purposeful, of course, as it gave the feeling of history to a fake witch lifestyle.

In spite of its disingenuous nature, the mix of old grey stonework and timber-framed cruck houses made the main street feel like an illustration in a history book. He expected Naomi to be excited by it, but she took his hand and tugged him forward, away from the checkpoint in no particular direction.

"Do I want to know what a claim mark is?" she asked under her breath.

"It's archaic, it's not a real thing anymore," he replied. "You don't need to worry about it, but thanks for lying. It's one of those judiciary catch-alls that can land a vampire in trouble for no reason."

She stopped walking and pulled him into a dip between two shop fronts. Arran could see through the window of one of them, an ersatz "old-fashioned" magic shop that sold magical items that were more form than function. The display of aquamarine geodes behind Naomi cast a blue haze around her.

"Are you okay here?" she asked. "We can go if you want to."

"I thought you wanted to see the village?"

"I do but..." She took a moment to think before continuing, "it's not like I don't know what prejudice looks like."

"It's not exactly the same-"

"No, it's not the same," she agreed. "But it's not 100% different, is it?"

Arran considered what she was offering. He had been uncomfortable the entire time that they had been here, but now that they were through there would probably be a lot of fun things to do. Besides that, there was a part of him that defiantly wanted to be here. And if Naomi wanted to see the supernatural world, she had to see the ugly bits too.

"Honestly, it's fine. Let's just have some fun," he reassured her. "I appreciate it, though."

They stepped back into the street and found the big map of attractions not far from the entrance to the village. Now Naomi was letting herself get excited, pulling out her phone to make a list of everything she wanted to see. Without even trying to look into her head he could feel her excitement building and it made him feel warm inside. It was nice to see his world through her eyes, it made him feel like it wasn't such a horrible place after all. 

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Hi there, my life just exploded and I had to quit my job, whoops. Please be patient while I try to get my life in order, I'm just using all of my free time right now to find employment while still working all the hours under the sun during my notice. I promise I will be back to regular posting as soon as possible. Thanks for understanding.