Joe hummed softly as he sat in his office, his gaze fixed on his computer screen. He took a sip of his coffee, then glanced out the window. His hand trembled involuntarily as he reached out to steady it.
This feeling of dread… the magical presence was stronger than he’d anticipated. He could no longer track Bonny’s magical frequency, which meant he was either dead or trapped within a Mundus Fictus. Neither option was particularly comforting.
It’s Bonny, he thought, trying to reassure himself. The oldest witch hunter, the best he’s ever known. He can do this. Just as he was attempting to quell his anxiety, his office door swung open, and his secretary entered.
At first glance, she appeared to be a typical office professional. Her short black hair was neatly parted, framing her face with precision. She wore a crisp white blouse with a black scarf tied like a tie, all tucked beneath a tailored black blazer. A matching office skirt hugged her frame and ended just above her knees, and polished loafers completed the professional look.
She would have passed for an ordinary secretary if not for the pair of transparent wings sprouting from her back. Their delicate patterns shimmered faintly as they buzzed softly. With effortless grace, she hovered mid-air, her wings carrying her into the office as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Zara, what did I tell you about flying?” Joe asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as the girl slowly descended, landing gracefully on her feet.
“My apologies, sir,” she replied, “but you have to see this.” She handed him a tablet.
Joe adjusted his seat and stared at the tablet. Zara swiped the screen, and the image appeared on a larger display in front of them.
“What is that?” Joe asked, his voice filled with shock.
“The largest Mundus Fictus ever recorded in modern times,” she replied calmly, though her tone carried a sense of urgency.
“Isn’t this…?” Joe trailed off, recognizing the location.
“Yes, sir,” Zara confirmed. “I’m afraid so. It’s in Riverdale.”
“And any news from Bonny?” Joe asked, his concern growing.
“No, sir,” she replied. “With a Mundus Fictus that size, all communications will be lost until they can break through.”
“And the backup service?” Joe pressed.
“Nothing, sir,” Zara reported. “The analysis team has tagged it as a Level S threat and advised all services to withdraw and remain on standby.”
“From the fluctuations and size,” Joe mused, “the instigator must be using a tremendous amount of magic. No matter who they are, they’re eventually going to run out.”
“Have you contacted the coven?” Joe asked.
“Yes, sir,” Zara confirmed. “They’ve denied any contact with the instigator and have authorized an extermination.”
“Give it five more minutes,” Joe instructed.
“But sir, any longer and the normals—” Zara began, but Joe cut her off.
“I said five more minutes!”
Just then, the radio on his desk crackled to life.
“Joe? Joe?” a hoarse voice called out.
“Bonny?” Joe replied, grabbing the radio.
“Man, you won’t believe what happened,” Bonny said, his voice strained.
“Where are you?” Joe asked, relief flooding through him. “I’m calling the extraction team to create a portal back to HQ.”
“You better be fast,” Bonny urged. “She’s very, very angry now.”
This was the third time Sawyer had witnessed an explosion firsthand. But this one was different. He didn’t close his eyes; it was too fast.
He could see the explosion in slow motion, the way he was being blown apart, the pain slowly creeping into his body, too rapid for his brain to process.
But that wasn’t his primary concern. His necklace was growing colder, too cold to ignore. It was cooling faster than the explosion, now almost matching the size of the blast.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A blue hue shimmered and pushed back against the explosion, overpowering it, throwing him and Bonny away from the blast zone. He could see the explosion growing even larger and larger. The undead began to crumble to dust.
His vision swam, blurry and distorted. He struggled to draw breath, his lungs burning. He rolled onto his back and pounded his chest, trying to restart his breathing. A blue hue washed over him. This time, it coalesced into a tiny ball of light hovering over his chest. He had to crane his neck to see the blue spark as it pulsed against his skin. He groaned in pain, but the ache soon subsided, replaced by a strange sense of… repair. He could hear Bonny calling his name, but his voice was trapped in his throat.
The sky… there’s a hole in the sky, Sawyer thought, just before his vision went black.
Bonny was already by his side. He could feel Sawyer’s body mending itself, bones and muscles knitting back together. He’d barely made it out alive, thanks to this kid.
He turned to face Melinda, but she was gone. The undead had vanished as well. He scanned the area, drawing his blade and turning in a circle, but they seemed to be alone.
He hoisted Sawyer onto his back, giving him a fireman’s carry, and jogged out of the subway station. He could hear the distant hum of traffic; the sky was repairing itself, the tear in the fabric of reality closing.
They had exited the Mundus Fictus.
Bonny had a thousand questions, but they would have to wait. He ran towards the nearest alley, needing to be anywhere but that subway station. He gently laid the unconscious Sawyer on the ground and pulled out an old, battered radio from his belt.
I can’t believe the legendary Bonny is asking for help, he thought wryly as he switched the radio on and twisted the dial. “Joe? Joe?”
They had given him the coordinates: the nearest access portal was a few miles outside the city, in an abandoned warehouse. He took the train, offering a vague explanation that Sawyer was simply exhausted after a late-night party. A few stops later, he arrived at his destination. Still carrying Sawyer on his back, he hopped off the train.
He pushed open the warehouse door. A group of people in black suits were already there, setting up what looked like a circular metal ring, shaped like a mirror, except instead of glass, it glowed a soft white.
Two of them helped Bonny take Sawyer off his back and led them to the back of the warehouse, where a medical team was waiting.
“This is an emergency portal,” a girl called out to Bonny. She wore a striped white and blue shirt with gray pants. “We have to check for magic deficiency before letting you travel.” Bonny focused on the antennae on her head, which swayed back and forth as she pulled out a scanner and asked him to lie still.
He closed his eyes, his body screaming for rest. He could barely keep himself from falling asleep. So this is what fighting a Class A witch feels like, he thought. Though Bonny wouldn’t admit it, he could have died more than once tonight if it hadn’t been for Sawyer. But Sawyer had also been holding him back; he had to protect the damn kid, too.
“You’re clear, sir,” the girl called out.
“Thank you, Sully,” Bonny replied, taking the fresh ash-colored t-shirt she offered him.
“And the kid?” Bonny asked.
“He’s really low on the charts,” Sully replied. “We’re giving him a booster, just enough to get him through the portal and make him fit for travel.” Bonny didn’t complain. He knew what happened when someone traveled through a portal with a magic deficiency. He’d seen cases of people being torn apart, especially by wide portals like this one.
Bonny reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He took one out and placed it between his lips.
"No smoking," Sully called out sharply, slamming the cigarette out of Bonny's mouth with his observation board. "I can't patch you up only for you to break yourself down again."
One of the tech support staff pushed open the curtain. "Portal will be ready in five," he announced.
"About time," Bonny muttered.
**************************************
"Really, Sawyer? You're in the middle of fighting an evil witch, and you decide that's the best time to black out?" Sawyer muttered to himself as he groaned and sat up.
His hand brushed against something coarse. Sand?
“Do you?” a voice called out from in front of him, interrupting his dazed thoughts.
Startled, Sawyer looked up to see a man standing nearby. The stranger had plain white hair, sharp brown eyes, and a strikingly familiar face—like an older version of himself, only with a beard.
“So, do you? You know, talk to yourself all the time?” the man asked, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
“What? No!” Sawyer replied quickly.
“You just lied, didn’t you?” the man shot back, his tone dripping with amusement.
“Oh, and by the way, you’re on fire,” the man added nonchalantly.
Sawyer’s eyes widened as he looked down. His body was engulfed in flames. The searing pain hit him instantly, and he let out a scream. The man chuckled, snapping his fingers. In an instant, the burning desert around them dissolved, replaced by a vast, dark void. There was nothing—no horizon, no ground—just the two of them floating in the emptiness.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Sawyer demanded, his voice shaky with panic.
“Calm down,” the man replied, his tone unnervingly casual. “I’m you.”
“Me? Like… me from the future?” Sawyer asked, confused.
The man snorted. “Pfft, no, silly. I’m you from the past. The fourth life.”
“The fourth life?” Sawyer echoed, bewildered.
“Yeah, listen,” the man said quickly. “I don’t have time to explain everything right now, but you need to find Elise.”
“Elise? Who’s Elise?” Sawyer asked, his confusion deepening.
“You know her,” the man insisted. “You hid her somewhere. But first, you have to close the desert door. You already know how.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Sawyer snapped, frustration rising.
The space around them began to crack, bright light seeping through the fractures. The man glanced around, his expression turning grim.
“You’re starting to wake up,” the man said urgently. “They’ll explain soon. Before they do, remember this: kill the sun and slow the process. Go to the red desert and kill the sun.”
The void shattered, blinding light flooding in as Sawyer jolted back to reality.
"It is my duty to leave you a gift upon my passing," the man said, his tone solemn yet laced with a hint of amusement. "We may never meet again until you’ve ended this life."
He paused, a sly smile creeping across his face. "I’ll throw in a little extra, though—because I like your face."
Before Sawyer could react, the man grabbed his hand. A searing, unbearable pain shot through him, and Sawyer screamed, his voice echoing in the void.
The space around him cracked and shattered like glass, the blinding light forcing him to shield his eyes. He jerked awake as water splashed everywhere, drenching the floor. Blinking rapidly, his vision began to clear, and he took in his surroundings. He was in a bathtub, the walls of the bathroom pristine and white.
A quick glance down revealed he was wearing nothing but a pair of black underwear. Before he could process his situation, his attention shifted to a man seated nearby. The man was dressed sharply in a black suit, paired with a vintage tie striped in red and gold. A badge hung prominently from his chest, etched with the words: HOF Supernatural Crimes and Management (SCM).
“Well, I thought you were never going to wake up,” the man said, flashing him a smile.
Sawyer tried to stand, but his body refused to obey. A strange, fuzzy sensation coursed through him, as if some unknown force was pulsing inside his veins. “What… what did you do to me?” he managed to ask, his voice weak as he let his head sink back into the tub.
“Magic infusion,” the man replied casually, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “It can cause headaches, dizziness, hunger, and, in extreme cases, diarrhea.” He paused, raising an eyebrow as he read the last symptom aloud before folding the paper and tucking it away. “Really?” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Aren’t you…?” Sawyer began, then stopped, unsure how to phrase it.
“Blind? Yes,” the man confirmed.
“How could you…?” Sawyer trailed off, still trying to understand what was happening.
“It’s a long story, kid,” the man replied.
“Where’s the cowboy dude?” Sawyer asked, remembering Bonny.
“Cowboy? You mean Bonny?” The man burst out laughing. “That’s a new one. I’m going to tell him that.”
“Well, Bonny is halfway across the world right now,” the man continued, “probably with a bottle of the meanest drinks known to normals.”
Sawyer had a thousand questions swirling in his mind. His head throbbed, as if it were being pulled apart. He managed to move his head out of the tub and promptly threw up on the floor. Some of the vomit splattered on the man's shoe.
“Ah, the miss Mary will be pissed,” the man muttered.
“You mean like Mary, the mother of Jesus?” Sawyer asked, confused.
“No, kid,” the man chuckled. “Like the cleaning lady.”
“Anyways,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Joseph Walker, but everyone calls me Boss or Joe. I prefer if you call me Joe.”
“Well, Joe,” Sawyer said weakly, “I have the meanest headache—”
Sawyer couldn’t finish his sentence. His body began to convulse violently. He couldn’t describe the pain. It felt like he was going to die. He couldn’t even scream. It felt like his entire body was on fire.
“Fuck!” he managed to groan. He was going into shock.