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Emmett looked confused. “I’m not sure that I understand your reference. Is that a Welsh territory? Was it one of Arthur’s?”
“Oh my god, no,” Fern snapped, jumping to her feet, “It’s in America. It’s a really boring—wait, stop. I’m not getting sidetracked by this.” She turned to face Mara. “What in the hell is happening here?”
Mara thumbed to the door behind her. “He went to cool off for a while.”
“Cool off?” Fern snapped, her hand going to her hips. “I haul my ass across the Atlantic to this department and I found out what? That Dr. Welsh isn’t human? Is he even a doctor? What is this place?”
Emmett made something of a shocked sound from behind Fern. Mara’s smile slipped, her face hardening. “Yes, he is, and a very accomplished one at that. I understand that you’re confused, but I don’t take lightly to anyone insulting Calum.”
Fern bristled. “I don’t take lightly to being lied to.”
“You weren’t,” Mara countered. “You accepted a position with the Department of Highland Magic, did you not?”
“Excuse me for not thinking that was literal!”
“I’ve read some of your research. Were the elves and the djinns you met with literal enough for you?”
“Ugh,” Fern groaned, plopping back down on the chaise. Her hands went to her temples. “Those are active magical societies. They liaison with human governments. They have tourist visas, for god’s sake!”
“All right.” Emmett took a step forward. “I think we’re losing track of the topic at hand.” His voice was low, and it had a soothing effect. Fern took a deep breath as he continued. “I’ll be the first to agree with you that Calum has had…inopportune timing. However, you’ll find that everyone in this department has great loyalty towards him. He’s never lied to you.” There was a long silence as Fern tried to piece through what Mara and Emmett were telling her.
“Am I really here for my doctorate?” She hated how upset her voice sounded, but she really couldn’t handle the idea that she finally wrangled a chance at her dreams for naught.
“Yes.” Mara was quick to answer. “I assure you, Emmett is right. I have not lied to you, and Dr. Welsh—Calum—will oversee your doctorate. There are just…other things that you haven’t learned yet.”
Fern shook her head, “That I haven’t learned yet?”
“Think of it this way,” Mara shrugged. “You’re here to learn about magical societies, fictitious or real, and you just cracked the case on a pretty big one, didn’t you?”
Fern snorted, “You could say that.”
“I’d say that’s a banger of a first day.” Mara’s voice had lifted again, and her familiar joking tone was back. Fern let out a long sigh and looked up at the ceiling.
“Okay, so there’s a Scottish magical community that no one knows about. Dr. Welsh isn’t human,” she looked between Emmett and Mara, “and don’t you two think for a second that I believe you are, either. My research position is legitimate. So…what’s the catch?”
Mara and Emmett exchanged a look that Fern didn’t quite catch. Mara turned to her and nodded in the hallway's direction.
“I think this conversation should continue in a pub, don’t you?”
* * *
Mara, Fern, and Emmett made their way out of the Old College building. The sun had set, and the day had cooled off considerably. Mara had pulled a leather jacket and wool scarf from a ‘Lost and Found’ bin for Fern to use. She normally didn’t care for fashion, but she was grateful that neither item was too terribly offensive for her already lackluster sense of style.
Emmett didn’t wear a coat at all, and Mara slipped on a trench coat. Fern got a glimpse of the infamous Burberry check on the lining. She was studying both of her new coworkers meticulously as they made their way across the college lawn, taking notes on what their true identities might be.
This might have been the most chaotic first day in the history of first days, but Fern was still a researcher, after all.
Whatever Emmett is, he doesn’t need a jacket, so he runs hot. Not a vampire. He’s too…corporeal to be a djinn. Mara would be the first person I’ve ever known who can afford designer on an academic’s salary, so human is out.
Emmett and Mara made Fern promise to hold her questions until they explained themselves over a pint. So she held her tongue.
The pub was across the street from Old College. It had a bright red exterior, with the words ‘Captain’s Bar’ written across the doorway in gold lettering. Emmett and Mara went in first, and a slew of hellos greeted them from the crowd inside.
Fern followed in behind them, taking in the small pub. It had dark wood paneling that covered three-fourths of the wall. Above the paneling, the wall was white and covered in various memorabilia. A smattering of old ship wheels hung there, alongside several iterations of the Scottish flag, including both the Lion Rampant and the Saltire.
A crooked chandelier swung gently, with a tiny skeleton in a birdcage hanging off it. Beer advertisements and old portraits of various pirates and sea captains covered the rest of the wall space.
Random nautical memorabilia aside, it looked like almost every pub that Fern had ever been in. They crossed the massive bar with its multitude of beer taps, where Fern noticed a massive jar and a sign that said ‘Pickled Egg—80p.’
