The Dark Lady's Guide to Villainy [Book 1 Complete] [Dark Lord, School, Romance]

Mo's tablet had apparently decided that her coffee break was the perfect time for an existential crisis, buzzing with enough emergency notifications to paint her screen the color of impending doom.

Because, of course, it was.

The familiar comfort of the mismatched armchairs where Mo used to spend her breaks felt surreal against the backdrop of crisis reports accelerating faster than her intelligence network could process them.

"Seventeen confirmed hotspots across Southern England alone," she said, scrolling through updates from her operatives while enjoying the smell of the coffee Lily had made for them. Each report carried timestamps showing the accelerating pace of System expansion—what had been isolated incidents yesterday were becoming permanent installations today. "And that's just the ones we can safely approach without triggering System adaptations."

The tablet's screen flickered as another urgent message appeared, this one from Shadow Infiltrator Korrinth embedded in Newcastle's emergency services. The report was filed through what Mo recognized as a human smartphone—complete with autocorrect errors that her centuries-old operative was still learning to navigate. System hotshot expanding beyond initial parameter. Local authorities implementing quarantine protocols. Domestic operatives maintaining cover within emergency services. Note: These 'cellular towels' provide remarkably efficient communication networks despite primitive appearance.

A minute later, another message came from the same operative: Update: Why does this device keep changing 'demonic' to 'domestic'? Most frustrating.

Watching her shadow operative struggle with autocorrect while filing reports about interdimensional crisis management wasn't exactly how she'd planned to spend her Tuesday. Though honestly, using 'domestic operatives' instead of 'demonic operatives' was probably the least of their translation problems.

Until this week, interdimensional embargo protocols had strictly forbidden importing Earth tech to demonic realms. Now her shapeshifter operatives were filing reports through touchscreen devices, learning to navigate cellular networks, and apparently developing opinions about human infrastructure efficiency. Three of her surveillance specialists had already submitted detailed analyses of 5G conspiracy theories as potential cover stories for magical phenomena—apparently, they found human paranoia about cellular networks genuinely entertaining as a recreational hobby.

Her centuries-old operatives were adapting to smartphones faster than most humans learned to use them. But, apparently, interdimensional beings mastering Earth tech in three days wasn't complicated enough. Among the issues that flooded her mind were things like: Would other demonic houses demand access to these and other human technologies? And: Would Earth's tech companies suddenly find themselves negotiating contracts with interdimensional entities who had no concept of patent law but were intimately familiar with the Ethereal Codex's arcane intellectual property protections?

What was obvious was that human inventors would need to learn demonic research registration protocols very quickly—though fortunately, Mo had recent experience with Registry Archfiend bureaucracy that might prove invaluable for cross-dimensional technology transfer negotiations.

Mo had already instructed Grimz to investigate the feasibility of establishing a formal R&D unit for human-demonic technological collaboration. The possibilities ranged from beneficial magitech development to a potential magical arms race as different realms competed to adapt human innovations. Either way, the Integration had shattered traditional barriers in ways that would reshape interdimensional relations for centuries.

A particularly urgent alert broke through her technological speculation, drawing her attention back to the immediate crisis.

Valerius noticed her expression shift and leaned forward from his position in the opposite chair, diplomatic instincts clearly engaged. "Judging by that expression, I presume our situation has developed additional complications?"

"You should have received this one as well," she said, reading the priority message. "The Prime Minister's integration committee is requesting another emergency briefing. Something about 'unprecedented magical infrastructure appearing overnight' in Birmingham."

Lily approached their corner table with a concerned face. "That researcher is back," she announced quietly. "The one who was here yesterday asking all those pointed questions about Bath's 'statistical impossibilities.' Dr. Foster, I think? She's brought colleagues this time, and they're all carrying very expensive-looking equipment."

Mo felt her stomach drop. Dr. Emily Foster—the Integration Crisis Research Team specialist who'd spent the past three days systematically investigating why Bath remained stable while similar cities descended into magical chaos. She knew about Mo's background and had been asking increasingly pointed questions about coordinated magical intervention. The only thing Mo had been hoping for was that the researcher would just move on to more obviously chaotic locations.

She exchanged a glance with Valerius—the kind of look that in human cop shows usually preceded someone saying 'We've got a situation.' Except their situation involved interdimensional politics and government research teams documenting evidence of Blackthorn Keep's involvement in Earth's affairs instead of just ordinary murder mysteries. And right now, Mo wasn't sure she was ready to reveal the full scope of Nightshade operations in South England and on Earth in general.

"How many colleagues?" Valerius asked, his tone suggesting he was already calculating diplomatic damage control.

"Four, plus what appears to be a mobile laboratory." Lily said. "They've asked specifically to speak with Mo. And I overheard one of them mentioning 'systemic magical anomaly patterns' and something called 'non-human intervention protocols'."

Mo's fingers found their way into her hair—the nervous tell that had betrayed her stress since middle school. Non-human intervention protocols. They knew.

"We should move this conversation somewhere more private," Mo said, glancing around the increasingly busy café where customers were beginning to notice the official-looking equipment being set up near the counter.

"Use the back room," Lily offered, gathering their empty coffee cups. "I'll bring fresh drinks and make sure you're not disturbed."

"Actually," Mo said, feeling slightly awkward about the timing but recognizing this might be relevant to the future conversations they may have, "I should probably mention that I just purchased the two floors above the bookshop. Thought it would be useful to have a proper base for these kinds of meetings, plus somewhere to stay when I'm on Earth. The renovations aren't finished yet, so the back room will have to do."

Lily paused mid-reach for an empty coffee cup, blinking at Mo with the expression of someone whose worldview had no more space to expand anymore. "You bought... the entire upper floors? That's like a million-pound purchase!"

"Closer to one-point-five, actually. We had to do it in under two days, you know. And… I should also mention that my mother apparently bought the parent company that owns Between the Lines right after I started working here. I only found out when I inherited everything." Mo's rose-gold energy flickered with embarrassment. "I realize this makes the whole 'normal barista' thing rather more complicated in retrospect."

Dr. Foster and her research team chose that exact moment to materialize at their table—because the universe apparently had a sick sense of timing when it came to Mo's attempts at maintaining a low profile. There was nothing quite like casually mentioning million-pound emergency real estate purchases to a government research team trying to decipher magic. The researcher's eyebrows rose with the expression of someone whose investigation had just taken on an entirely new dimension. She exchanged meaningful glances with her colleagues, clearly filing away information about Mo's financial resources and family connections, as well as her casual attitude toward emergency real estate acquisition.

Not needing Lily's directions, Mo led the way through the café to the employee break room behind the counter, acutely aware that she'd just revealed the extent of her economic influence to a government research team who'd probably started the day assuming they were just investigating a former barista with otherworldly background.

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"Ms. Nightshade," Dr. Foster said, setting up her tablet on the table. "We need to discuss your role in Bath's magical stabilization. And before you offer any more explanations about ley lines and historical significance, I should mention that we've identified at least forty-seven non-human operatives currently active in this city."

The room went very still.

"Forty-seven?" Mo asked, genuinely surprised. She'd authorized the deployment of thirty-two Blackthorn Keep agents. Someone else was running operations in her former refuge. Despite all assurances from the High Council that they would be the only active agents here.

"Changelings, primarily, though we've detected evidence of at least three species we can't classify even basing our nomenclature on the whole human corpus of myths and fantasy books." Dr. Foster activated her holographic display, showing a map of Bath marked with movement patterns and magical signatures.

Mo stared at the three-dimensional projection hovering above the tablet, her rose-gold energy flickering with genuine surprise. She'd seen volumetric manifestations before, but only created by skilled mages using complex spellwork. The idea that human technology could generate such detailed holographic imaging was... exciting. What other tech had Earth's governments secretly developed in the past years?

Mo glanced at the image once again and corrected: "They call themselves shapeshifters." Then caught herself. Dr. Foster's eyebrows rose slightly at the casual sharing of crucial information.

"Right, shapeshifters," Dr. Foster continued smoothly, apparently filing away Mo's familiarity with supernatural terminology. "The interesting part isn't that you have supernatural backup. It's that your people are actively preventing magical chaos rather than exploiting it."

Valerius cleared his throat diplomatically. "Dr. Foster, perhaps we could discuss the nature of your investigation before…"

"The nature of my investigation," Dr. Foster interrupted, "is determining whether the unprecedented magical crisis affecting Earth represents a coordinated attack, a catastrophic accident, or something else entirely. We're working with fragmentary information—the magical phenomena appeared suddenly with no warning, and we're trying to piece together patterns from whatever sources we can find."

She gestured to her holographic display, which expanded to show a three-dimensional map spanning multiple continents. Red markers indicated hotspots, while green zones showed areas of unusual stability.

"Every stabilized zone we've identified has one thing in common: the presence of individuals who don't register properly in whatever magical interface has been showing to the affected people. People like you, Ms. Nightshade, who appear magical to direct observation but seem invisible to the classification system that newly awakened individuals report seeing." Dr. Foster paused, studying Mo's reaction. "They… we experience floating text, level assignments, ability classifications—but when we try to scan you or your operatives, we get error messages or blank readings."

This reaction of the magical System to Mo and her friends wasn't news. All of them experienced the strange gazes from humans during the past three days. They had to learn how to react to that and how to mislead them really fast. But still, Mo felt the weight of revelation settling around her like a heavy cloak. These people weren't just investigating the crisis anymore.

She and her operatives were being investigated as potential causes.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" she asked.

"I'm suggesting," Dr. Foster said, "that you and your colleagues represent something this magical classification system wasn't designed to account for and can't properly process. And I'm wondering whether that limitation might be the key to understanding how to stabilize the entire magical integration."

Before Mo could respond, a soft tapping came from the window. A large raven perched outside, carrying what appeared to be an official message tube bearing the Blackthorn Keep seal.

The sight sent an unexpected chill through Mo's chest. The last time she'd received a raven message at Between the Lines, she'd been working her standard shift, perfectly content in her life as a barista who happened to have unusual heritage. That message had announced her parents' disappearance and changed everything—forcing her to leave this sanctuary and claim a title she'd never wanted.

Now, months later, sitting in the same building but facing an interdimensional crisis instead of simple inheritance complications, another raven had arrived with news that could probably reshape her world once again.

Mo moved to open the window, ignoring the stunned expressions of Dr. Foster and her colleagues as the bird hopped inside with practiced efficiency.

"Priority message from the head of my Shadow Council," Mo explained, accepting the tube from the raven, who immediately launched itself back toward the window.

"Shadow what?" Dr. Foster asked, her curiosity clearly piqued by the terminology.

"Think of your government's Shadow Cabinet—the opposition party's alternative ministers who shadow the actual Cabinet positions," Mo said, settling back into her chair while keeping the sealed message in her hands. "In demonic politics, the concept is essentially reversed. The Shadow Council handles the actual governance and crisis management, while the official Council of Lords focuses on ceremonial duties and traditional power displays. Quite efficient, really—lets the people who actually know what they're doing get on with running things."

She glanced at the wax seal—marked with the highest crisis designation—but set it aside without opening it. "We should finish this conversation first, but this suggests the situation is escalating rapidly."

Dr. Foster stared at the raven disappearing into Bath's autumn sky. "Did that bird just... travel between dimensions?"

"Yes, through the standard portal service," Mo said matter-of-factly. "Much more reliable than your cellular networks that wouldn't work for cross-dimensional communication."

"Standard portal service…" Dr. Foster mumbled, still processing the casual mention of interdimensional infrastructure.

While Dr. Foster was distracted, Mo found herself weighing how much to reveal—the woman worked for the British government, but seemed unaware of the information that had been shared with the Prime Minister. Either the governmental crisis response was more fragmented than Mo had realized, or Dr. Foster was operating with limited clearance.

But the researcher had already demonstrated valuable insights into the System's limitations and potential mitigation strategies. If she was this thorough with incomplete information, perhaps Mo would be better served by bringing her fully into the loop. And if Dr. Foster proved as capable as she appeared, well... Blackthorn Keep was always looking for talented researchers.

"Dr. Foster," she said finally, "I think it's time for complete honesty about what we're dealing with."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"My name is Morgana Nightshade, you already know that, but I prefer to be called Mo. I'm the current Dark Lady of Blackthorn Keep, which is a demonic territory spanning multiple dimensional planes. The 'non-human operatives' you've detected, or at least some of them, are my people, deployed to prevent magical chaos from destroying a city where I spent two years learning what it meant to be human."

Dr. Foster's scientific composure cracked slightly. "Multiple dimensional planes? You mean there are even more of them…"

"Entire realms of existence, yes. Pocket universes, shadow worlds, elemental planes, fey courts, undead territories, dragon kingdoms, crystalline dimensions where time flows backwards—the magical crisis isn't just affecting Earth, it's spreading across dimensional boundaries to other worlds, other human worlds. But we don't know if and how it will affect other beings and locations."

"And your friends? The ones who also don't register in the System?"

"Nyx is a shapeshifting demon noble. Lucian is an ice mage from an aristocratic family with enough political influence to freeze small kingdoms. Both of them are doing some field research right now. Valerius here is a demon lord who's been serving as our liaison with Earth's governments. We're all first-year students at what you might call a supernatural university, where our curriculum was supposed to cover advanced magical theory and interdimensional politics. Instead, we found ourselves cleaning up after a faculty member who decided to democratize magic across multiple realities without considering the consequences."

Dr. Foster was frantically taking notes. "A ritual? Someone deliberately caused this? One person created this entire mess?"

Mo glanced at Dr. Foster using a less precise language than usual. The reality of it all was finally getting to her.

"Julian—our former friend and teaching assistant to one of our professors—developed what he called 'magic democratization ritual.' We don't know much, unfortunately, but we can guess at least some things. As you can see, it's a systematic approach to granting magical abilities to anyone, regardless of heritage or training. Almost no humans have ever had magic throughout the history. In all worlds. Anyway, the ritual. When we tried to stop him, it was partially disrupted, but not before its effects began cascading across dimensional boundaries."

"Academic assignment turned crisis management," Dr. Foster said, her mind clearly racing to process revelations that redefined her understanding of the situation. "And now your Academy expects students to resolve an interdimensional crisis? And liaison with the governments."

"More or less." Mo pulled out her tablet, displaying intelligence reports that painted an increasingly dire picture. "We have skills, you know. And powers. And resources. I'm the leader of an empire with GDP much higher than Earth's combined economic output. And that if all countries stopped fighting and started benefiting from mutual trade agreements."

Dr. Foster suddenly didn't have any more questions. She just looked at Mo.

Valerius stepped forward with impeccable timing. "Dr. Foster, what we're about to propose requires unprecedented cooperation between species that have spent centuries carefully avoiding each other. Are your research teams prepared to work with interdimensional magical authorities?"

"If it prevents reality from collapsing? Absolutely."

Mo felt something shift in the room's atmosphere—not the tense standoff of competing interests, but the focused energy of people discovering they were on the same side of an impossible problem.

"Then I'll bring my friends in immediately," she said, already typing messages to the group chat. "Because whatever the message from Blackthorn Keep says, it probably wouldn't make our lives easier."