🌿💀🌿
“You said it was an abandoned mall?” We make our way back to the car and it occurs to me that Witch-Hazel is soaking wet. And not in a fun way. But I feel like the moment to ask about that has passed.
“I think that’s what you call them, yes,” Witch-Hazel answers.
“There’s only one abandoned mall in Oleander City. That I know about anyway.” I wobble a bit as I try to open the car door. “Thank God for everybody rushing out like that, cuz I didn’t feel like paying for those drinks.” We get inside the car and Witch-Hazel looks me over.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“It’s not a forklift, I’ll be fine.”
“What in Odin’s beard is a forklift?”
“Y’know, you not knowing stuff is starting to get in the way of…” Shit, I’m drunk “my jokes.” A burp escapes my gut and the smell burns my nostrils. “Okay, I’ll be good in an hour.”
“We don’t have an hour, who knows if the necromancer will stay put? Here, drink this.” With a snap of her fingers, Witch-Hazel produces a vial of black liquid in her hand and offers it.
“What is this, anti- anti…anti umm…drunk potion?”
“It’s like a palate cleanser for your body. We use it when you don’t want a bunch of different elixirs and potion effects in your body at once. Drink some and take deep breaths,” she explains. I take the vial and look it over. The liquid inside looks black as tar but moves like water.
“Does it taste bad?”
“It’s actually quite sweet,” she assures me. We don’t have a ton of time for me to sober up and I shouldn’t use assault rifles while drunk, so bottoms up I guess.
I take off the glass topper and take a swig. It goes down easy, tastes like cinnamon, sugar, and some kind of fruit; honeydew maybe? I should eat more fruit. I-
My heart starts beating at an uncomfortable rate and I clutch at my chest.
“That’s normal, just breathe deep, you need the oxygen,” Witch-Hazel says. Trusting her, I let go of my chest and focus on breathing. My heart works at an obscene pace, circulating all my blood swiftly. It’s a strange sensation, rather than becoming less intoxicated over an hour or so I’m more alert and steady by the second. In a minute or two, my head is clear and all grogginess has left my body.
My heart returns to a normal pace.
“Whoa, that was…what’s a stronger word than weird?”
“Peculiar,” Witch-Hazel provides.
“That was peculiar. I kinda want some more though. What other fun concoctions do you have?” I’m definitely not drunk anymore because I can say “concoction”.
“I have a brew that could temporarily turn you into anything you’re thinking of.” I briefly think about what I would turn into. A knife? Could I turn into a gun?
“That sounds like a blast, but I’ll pass for now.”
“Oh, is the big bad assassin too scared to try a transmogrification drink?”
“Like how you bitched out back in the club? You had a chance with all this!” I wiggle in my seat a bit. The witch is taken aback.
“I was hoping you forgot about that,” she says while scratching her cheek.
“It was like ten minutes ago. This isn’t some fanfiction where I forget everything cuz I was drunk. We finish this fight, you better not be all bark and no bite, know what I’m saying?” I punctuate with a wink.
“…what’s fanfiction?” She asks.
“UGH!” I start the car.
✨🔮✨
Driving at record speeds, the assassin gets us back to her apartment quickly. The second she closes the door she starts undressing, which in any other situation would excite me but we can’t fight in these clothes.
“Give me three minutes,” she says, heading to her hidden armory.
I peel off my dress, kick off my shoes, and redo my hair into a simple braid crown. I hadn’t expected to get into a magical fight out here but being prepared is a key principle of a witch.
I retrieve a deep purple dress from my wardrobe. The hem goes halfway down to my thighs, as I’m sure a lot of running will be involved.
It’s the most enchanted piece of clothing I own, its plain appearance betrays all the complexities that have gone into it. Each thread is woven from the silk of a Vexikof spider, an already intrinsically magical material. When even a small amount of magic is poured into it, its durability is exponentially higher than that of steel.
That’s nothing to speak of the wards embedded into the garment. There are shield wards on the outer side of the forearms to help deflect harmful magic. Near the wrist is a ward attuned to my eyes only, it shows the path of any primed spell I cast in the form of a red line. A more complex ward sits at the small of the back, it shoots out an intense burst of air; propelling me through the air in any direction for a moment. The rest are quick primed spells, all defensive.
I slip the dress on, securing the sash about the waist. It’s a little tighter than I remember, but it’s fine. Now I have to decide what shoes I’m going to wear.
“Here, wear these,” Hollyhock offers. The assassin is dressed in all-black tactical-looking clothing. Over her clothes are harnesses and straps that I’m sure will hold various guns soon. She’s holding a pair of tall black boots and socks. The boots look like they’ve seen their fair share of long days and rough nights.
“Believe it or not, these are the nicest boots I own, so make sure you give ‘em back, ‘kay?” Hollyhock kneels and puts on the footwear for me. The assassin doesn’t seem to realize the intimacy of her actions. She tenderly slips the socks on and ties the boots, “that’s not too tight, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I answer her, ignoring the heat rushing to my face.
“These are steel-toe boots, don’t want your dainty little feet to get hurt do we?”
“There isn’t a thing ‘dainty’ about me.”
“You’re looking pretty dainty to me,” she says back with an odd smile.
“Let’s see how dainty you think I am after this fight.”
“Good, keep that energy,” she replies as she stands back up. “I need to get my finishing touches in here.”
We walk into her hidden room and the assassin quickly grabs, loads, and stashes different guns and ammo for them on her person. Two pistols at her sides, a small-looking shotgun with a vertical grip is clipped to her belt, a rifle she strapped to fit on her back, and she ponders between two knives. She picks the one she called the Ratkiller before, putting it in a neat little sheath.
Hollyhock opens a locker in which three jackets hang from a rack. She rubs the sleeves between her fingers, testing some quality they have.
“This one,” she says, picking a dark orange leather jacket. From the way she takes it off the hanger the jacket is heavier than it looks. The inside has several pockets to which she adds ammo clips and a few other things. Slipping her arms through the sleeves, she rolls her shoulders to check if it fits right.
“Won’t you be hot in that?” I ask.
“Better to be hot than cold,” she says back in a practiced manner. “Sweating is better than bleeding. But if you catch me getting a heatstroke, you can do whatever magic you need to save me.”
“I’ll be sure to do that. Are you ready?”
“Not quite, can’t forget the headwear.” She grabs a helmet like the one she wore before, this one is notably more scratched up. A couple of things click into place and the helmet is secured around her head. “Hate this thing, messes up my hair,” she comments.
“Now, for the pièce de résistance,” she opens the case Larkspur gave her some days ago. From it, she takes out a rifle with a very large ammo container. How many bullets the box can hold I don’t know but I’m guessing a lot. Two legs stick out from the barrel to hold it up.
“The Sorrel-115,” she announces. “It’s got enough ammo for all our problems. Hopefully.” She holds the large gun and cocks it. “Ready when you are.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and teleport us over to the lair of the necromancer. When we appear there, Hollyhock shakes her head.
“That’s going to take some getting used to. Think I prefer driving.”
“Convenient though, isn’t it?”
“Can’t deny that.” She hoists her gun up and looks the mall over. “Hiding in plain sight, classic.”
“Why is this place closed? Don’t people love shopping?” I ask. Hollyhock takes out her phone and looks something up.
“Apparently like twenty years ago, a sewage line burst under the place, and no one wanted to go back. No one’s touched the place since.” she shrugs. “Guess no one wants to shop when the place smells like shit. Not everything in Oleander City is tragic. Sometimes it’s funny.”
🌿💀🌿
I put my phone away in a secure pocket. With the light machine gun in my hands and all the weapons I brought with me, I hope I got enough ammo for this fight.
‘How many people could they have raised from the dead?’
“It may be a little late to ask this but if one of them bites or scratches me, I won’t turn into one, right?”
“Huh?” she makes a face as if I asked her to send me to Mars.
“Will I turn into a zombie if one of them bites me?” I repeat.
“These aren’t zombies, Hollyhock. They’re undead,” she thinks she explains.
“Name one difference between those two things,” I demand.
“The ‘difference’” she does air quotes “is that one is a fictional creature, whereas the other is just a reanimated body.”
“Before I met you all this shit was fictional. So, excuse me if I want a little clarity.”
She sighs.
“They don’t need to eat flesh to sustain themselves. They don’t need to eat, period. The necromancer controls them, so stop them, we stop the undead. If one scratches or bites you, you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll probably need some disinfectant because these are dead bodies we’re talking about. But you won’t turn into one.”
“See? A simple, reasonable explanation for this magic bullshit. Anything else I should know?”
“Aim for the head or the spine,” she says.
“Definitely zombies,” I say under my breath.
I look the witch over. She’s dressed like she’s going to a party, a cute little purple dress. But she chose it for a reason, so I’m guessing there are magical qualities to it. I’m always ready for a fight, but I can’t help but wonder if she is. After seeing her limp back from her fight, I have doubts about her capability for violence. This necromancer seems more than capable of it, can Witch-Hazel handle it?
Even as I think that, she stands there; her back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, a focused frown on her gorgeous face, she’s flexing her fingers, and there’s an air of determination coming from her. If Hazel isn’t worried, then I shouldn’t be.
‘And it’s not like she’s alone. She has me.’ I take a small earpiece out of my pocket.
“I almost forgot, here,” I offer it to her. “In case we get separated, we can keep in touch. It’s fixed to the one in my helmet.” Hazel puts the device in her ear. “You ready for this?”
She turns her head.
“Let’s end this,” she says.
The witch takes the lead, “let me check for any trap wards.”
I follow behind with my rifle at the ready.
“What’s a ward, exactly? You’ve said that before.”
“It’s like a preset spell that you put on a place or object. They perform one spell, but with greater intensity and duration,” she explains.
“Got it, like a landmine.”
“Sure, if that helps you understand.” She sticks out her hand, deep purple smoke rises from it and flows into the mall. After a moment, she closes her hand. “I only sense camouflage and sound wards.”
“What’s a sound ward?”
“In this instance, it blocks any noise from escaping,” she tells me. I feel like I could’ve figured that out. “They’re not expecting us,” she hypothesizes.
“Or they’re expecting a spectacle,” I observe. “It’d be rude to keep them waiting.” I push the door open and we enter. As soon as we step in the temperature around us drops significantly. Compared to the seventy-two degrees it is outside, it feels like it’s…below thirty degrees here. The chemical treatment my jacket went through reacts to the sudden temperature drop and makes it more flexible. I see Witch-Hazel’s breath in a cloud of mist.
We progress carefully, I check all the corners instinctively, finger near the trigger. Witch-Hazel stays close, her eyes darting around, no doubt looking for some magical fuckery.
It doesn’t smell like a sewage line burst open under here. In fact, it smells nice, like a flower. I can’t be bothered to think about which flower though.
‘Could this asshole have made a magic stink bomb and cleared everyone out? Effective, non-lethal, and pretty funny.’
We walk further into the mall, entering the atrium I guess. A massive skylight lets the moonlight pour over us.
Witch-Hazel suddenly stops and tenses up.
“They’re here,” she says softly.
I turn the safety off my gun.
“Well then!” A velvety voice says somewhere from behind us. We both snap around to locate it. “Seems I wasn’t able to throw you off my trail!”
The undeniably sensual voice is coming from somewhere on the second level. I can’t see them yet.
“I was hoping for my big reveal to happen in a grander setting than this, but a stage’s a stage all the same I suppose!”
“Enough theatrics!” I yell into the dark. “Let’s see that pretty face of yours!” I raise the rifle to aim down the sights.
“You’re just a human,” they observe “what are you doing with this sorcerer?!”
“I’m here to kill the asshole that’s been preying on my city for god knows how long!”
“I’m not a sorcerer!” Witch-Hazel interjects. “An Arcanium didn’t send me! This doesn’t have to end in violence!”
‘Sweet Hazel, everything in this city ends in violence.’
“I don’t think so! I’ve worked too long, suffered too much, and spent too much time in the darkness for you two to fuck it all up!” The necromancer says back.
“I just wanted you to know I gave you a way out of this!” Witch-Hazel responds. “Whatever happens from here on, is your fault!”
I switch my gun to semi-automatic.
“If you’re the first I’ll have to go through to get to IronHenge, then so be it!” Hearing that Witch-Hazel clenches her fists as bright hot lights form around her hands. The necromancer steps out from the shadows. “They’ll-”
I don’t wait for the next monologue and fire a shot at their head. The bullet seems to hit an invisible wall because it stops in mid-air and falls harmlessly.
“It’s rude to shoot people while they’re talking!” The necromancer informs me.
“It’s rude to raise the dead and attack a city!” I fire back.
“They have it coming, and now, so do you!” They quickly raise an arm. Suddenly, hundreds of the undead appear and start to encircle us.
Some at a quick glance look like regular people while others have further deteriorated. As if the sheer number of them wasn’t threatening enough, most of them are holding weapons. Knives, axes, machetes, one heading directly towards me is holding a sickle, and some even have guns.
I switch my rifle to full auto.
“We split up, give them a chase, take them out in waves, regroup and take out the rest, got it?” I quickly formulate. Witch-Hazel nods.
“Got it. Good luck, don’t die,” she says.
“I’ll try!”
We run in opposite directions towards the horde. I hear something similar to an air cannon firing. It came from where Witch-Hazel is but I deny myself the urge to look back. She can take care of herself, she has to. Besides, I have my own undead to deal with.
As they see me running towards them, they brace themselves, thinking I might tackle my way through them but I have no such plan. I reach inside one of the pockets and pull out a thermite grenade. Pull the pin and toss it at them. I zip my jacket back up and a couple of seconds later it detonates, creating a pool of fire a couple thousand degrees hot.
Those that weren’t lucky enough to move out of the way are immediately set on fire. They scream out in pain and I rush and jump clean over them to make my escape. Running past various stores I brave a look back and see they’ve started running after me. Not slowly either, like zombies would, but at seemingly human speeds. A big part of my plan was very dependent on them being much slower but that just means I’ll have to be faster.
✨🔮✨
I soar over the crowd of the undead with the help of my booster ward. To have made this many, and control them all at once, the necromancer must be more powerful and skilled than I thought. What we’ve come across were just flukes. This is what it’s all been amounting to.
When I lose thrust I sail back down to earth and land on one of them, snapping his neck with the impact. I hit the ground running and start making my way to find an ideal location. I hear something that sounds like a fireball exploding where Hollyhock ran off to. I’m hoping that she’s the one who caused the noise, the thought of her being hurt already isn’t going to do me any favors.
The abominations start chasing me and I prime a spell of ice. I let it coat the floor behind me to give myself a headstart, I’m not that fast of a runner, and ice isn’t an element I’ve mastered. They slip and fall but then they start to crawl over each other, spilling out onto the unfrozen ground.
I go over Hollyhock’s plan again in my mind.
I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back anymore.
🌿💀🌿
A couple of bullets zip past, nowhere near me, fired from the armed undead. Running and shooting is hard enough, doing it as a reanimated corpse probably adds some difficulty too. I’m guessing the guns were for a crowd of people and not a single person used to gunfire. The necromancer didn’t count on someone like me coming along.
I run into an office supplies store, jumping over a knocked-over shelf. The place isn’t even ransacked, everything that was here all those years ago is still here. Including a big ass printer that I almost trip over.
I’m hoping they can’t see me as well in the darkness. Years of training drilled into me make me move slowly and quietly. I observe them from the shadows. They’ve started looking around for me, spreading out. Seems they’re independent of each other. Though they work for the necromancer, individually they work their own way. They have the numbers to find me quickly. I have to start thinning out the herd soon.
Towards the back of the store, I see desks and head over. A strong-looking wooden desk is where I decide to start my massacre. I kneel and set the Sorrel-115 up on its bipod and take a deep breath. Aim slightly up where their heads will be.
I slam my fist hard on the desk twice. It catches most of the undead’s attention. I slam it twice again. They start rushing over into a narrow passageway made by the shelves. When they move together they act as one, creating the perfect bottleneck.
“That’s it, come to mama,” I say while moving my free hand to hold the stock against my shoulder.
I pull the trigger hard.
✨🔮✨
Just barely keeping a lead on the horde I resolve to start exercising after this is all over. Cardio, if nothing else. I head to a staircase and let my booster ward carry me most of the way up. I slam down on the metal steps, only a few away from the top. I ascend to the next floor and prime a spell.
Fire has always come naturally to me. Though not often used in witchcraft, I've studied many forms of the powerful school by myself.
I clap my hands and a ball of fire blazes to life in the space between them. Feeding the flames, the ball gets larger in milliseconds. I churn the flames inside to give it the consistency of magma. When the ball is half my height I push it forward and let it spill out. The liquid fire pours over the abominations. They only have half a second to scream out before their bodies get too damaged to function.
The fire cascades down, washing over dozens of them. The smell of burning flesh soon overpowers the ever-present scent of lavender that the necromancer enchanted this place with. The undead crawl over each other only to be hit with another wave of fire.
My arms tremble while I maintain the spell.
“That’s it, come to mama,” Hollyhock’s voice says through the earpiece. Hearing her say those words in that voice excites me in such a way that I lose focus.
“What the fuck?!” I say, before hearing a barrage of bullets firing.
🌿💀🌿
“What the fuck?!” Witch-Hazel says through the earpiece. The gun spits lead at the rushing horde. The bullets tear through the decaying flesh easily, each shot goes through two or three of them at a time, but there’s so many that it hardly matters.
“Sorry, forgot you could hear me,” I yell over the gun to Witch-Hazel.
“Well, it’s distracting. Could you not do that?” She requests.
“I can’t really talk right,” I inform her. I turn the gun left and right to kill more of them but they just keep coming. The pile of permanently dead bodies is starting to become a problem. It’s preventing me from shooting those still coming and from what I hear there’s a lot left.
✨🔮✨
Hollyhock has opened fire with her big gun and I need to concentrate.
‘Focus, witch-bitch! Can’t get distracted like that.’
The undead that weren’t burnt to a crisp climb over the charred remains of their comrades to get at me. Some of them fall over the side on the way up. It’ll take them some time so I retreat to find another narrow path when a group of them burst out from one of the stores behind me.
“Zeus’ dick!”
“Are you okay?!” Hollyhock asks.
One of the abominations has a knife and with startling speed tries to stab me. The blade meets the enchanted silk of my dress and gets deflected, I still feel it scrape against my rib but my blood stays inside my body. I grab the knife holding undead by the face and prime a fireball in my hand.
Its head explodes in a fiery mess and I have to close my eyes to keep gray matter from flying in.
“I’m fine, keep fighting!” I relay.
“Copy!”
I dash backward, priming another spell. Lightning is infinitely more complicated than fire, much harder to control, but undeniably powerful. Manipulating positively and negatively charged molecules at such rapid speeds is difficult for a lot of magicians.
Not me though.
Jewels of lightning form around my wrist like a bracelet. I aim with two of my fingers and the ward on my sleeve activates. The red line appears, tracking where my spell will go. Bringing my thumb down, I fire off the first bolt as the abominations group together.
With a loud thunder crack, it surges through the air, punching holes straight through the chest of seven of them. They fall over, gone forever. The others are next as I aim at them.
🌿💀🌿
Witch-Hazel says she’s fine so I have to believe her.
I haven’t been counting my shots but the Sorrel-115 still has more to give. The river of lead still flows against the mountain of bodies closing the distance bit by bit. They’re getting uncomfortably close before I can put bullets through them.
A dreaded click hits my ears. The Sorrel is spent and more of these poor bastards are coming.
I rise to my feet and kick the desk forward for whatever time it could buy me. Before I can reach for my pistol a bullet tries to burrow its way into the side of my skull. It must be a small-caliber bullet as the helmet stops it from making a tunnel through my brain. Still feels like I got punched in the head but it’s better than the alternative. I shake it off quickly and grab my pistol.
I put a couple of shots through the nearest window and sprint towards it. The glass shatters harmlessly against my treated jacket and helmet, but a shard cuts through my pants, putting a gash a little above my knee. I’ve had worse cuts. The momentum of the jump makes me crash against a pillar. I use it to get my footing, pulling the Koji-52 that’s strapped to my back forward. Safety gets turned off and I fire off several pulse shots through the heads of more undead.
I must be crazy because I’m hearing cracks of thunder. A quick glance at where it’s coming from and I see Witch-Hazel on the second floor striking a group of undead like a beautiful storm on legs. I focus back on the horde running at me. The Koji does what it does best and puts down several of them. It seems that they’ve finally thinned out as there aren’t dozens running at me at a time anymore.
“You can shoot lightning?” I ask Witch-Hazel.
“I can do lots of things. I have magic, remember?” She replies. My gun clicks. Empty.
An undead with a machete tries to get a little too friendly with my face. The corpse swipes at me and I sidestep and wrench the blade from his hand. Spinning on my heel, I take his head clean off.
“Did you make that fireball sound I heard earlier?” Witch-Hazel asks.
“Thermite grenade,” I explain. More of the undead come after me. I start slicing heads off left and right. “Think I can get a blast over here?! I need to reload my gun!” Two seconds later a bolt of lightning crashes into the horde accosting me. It catches their attention long enough for me to reload and I start shooting again.
“Thank you!”
“Are we even now?”
“Fight’s not over yet!”
✨🔮✨
While I was saving Hollyhock, making us even, in my opinion, an abomination grabs my hair from behind. They pull my head back and another tries to stab in my neck. I activate the shield ward on my forearm; the magical energy instantly forms a solid disk that bisects the knife-wielder at the torso. The smell alone turns my stomach.
I slam the shield into the head of whoever the fuck is pulling my hair. I turn around, prime another fire spell, and release a stream of fire from my hands.
“Jesus fucking Christ! How many people has this asshole zombified?!” The assassin asks.
“They’re not zombies!” I set one after another on fire and finally get some space.
“The terminology is really important right now?!” I hear her grunt with effort.
“Anyway, it’s this city’s fault! How can this many people die in one city?!” I stop the spell and let my hands cool off.
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“On average, there are over a hundred deaths here every day,” she informs me. I run, jump off the handrail, and use the booster ward to reach the floor above. I struggle to pull myself up over the handrail but I’ve gained some distance and bought myself some time.
“You just know that off the top of your head?”
“Well I contribute to the murder rate, might as well know a few other statistics,” she says. “I think they’re thinning out! You got any magical way of telling us how many are left?!”
“Not quickly! And we still have to deal with the necromancer!”
“Then keep the fight going! We’ll regroup later!”
Hollyhock’s assessment seems right, there aren’t as many abominations chasing me. I start priming a more complex spell while I have the time. Purple triangles of my energy start forming in the air around me.
Suddenly a massive hand grabs my shoulder and slams me against the handrail. A very tall undead has a hold of me. The spell shatters as I lose focus and its hand grips my throat.
I can only get out a croak for help before life starts getting squeezed out of me. My vision gets blurry when a bullet finds its way through the center of the abomination’s forehead. It lets go of me and falls over for good. I hold my throat and turn to see Hollyhock who stopped dead in her tracks to save me.
“Good shot!” I hoarsely say.
“Anytime, babe!”
🌿💀🌿
Stopping to save Witch-Hazel allowed the last of my horde to catch up with me. There are only a dozen or so of them left but they all have weapons, one has a firefighter ax that looks pretty menacing. She swings it at me and I use my rifle to block it. I kick her in the chest and she lets go of the ax; I take hold of it and swing it into the skull of the nearest undead. A quick bash with the butt of my gun to another and then I make a hasty retreat.
I run to the nearest escalator and ascend to the next floor. I need all focus to load this gun while running. Escaping from these undead makes me grateful for all the years of running exercises Tamara put me through. I used to think they were hell, but they’re serving me well now.
The undead are only an arm’s length behind me. I don’t think they can get tired. So the longer I run the more likely they are to kill me.
‘RUN! RUN! RUN! FASTER!’
I give it everything I got and push myself as fast as I can go. The Kudzu shotgun clipped to my side keeps banging into my leg, right on the cut I got earlier.
‘Ignore it!’
One last burst of speed, I jump and turn around in the air and hold down the trigger. Bullets tear through the last of the undead and I fall, hitting the ground hard. Breathing techniques that have been drilled into me help me catch my breath. My muscles are screaming in relief that I’ve stopped moving for a moment. My breath fogs up the inside of my helmet.
I look up at the trail of dead bodies. I’ve killed more people tonight than I have in my entire life as a Bay Leaf. All of them had lives of their own, they died, were turned into tools for someone else’s bidding, and I ended them again.
So much death. It’s all my life seems to add up to.
‘Get up Hollyhock. There’s still a job to do.’
I pick myself up off the floor.
“Are you doing ok?” Witch-Hazel asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just catching my breath,” I respond while looking around for her. I see her on the third floor still. Something is floating around her producing small amounts of light. She’s looking at me rather than the horde making its way over to her.
“Let’s regroup under the skylight,” I say “finish them off together.”
The witch nods and jumps from the third floor. I reflexively lurch forward as if I could possibly catch her from over here. But then her descent slows and she lands safely and gracefully. I, on my human legs, walk to the escalator.
✨🔮✨
One undead is still moving towards the assassin, but someone shot them in the leg, probably her. They hobble over. She unclips the shotgun from her side, loads it, and aims.
Where there was once a head, there isn’t much left after she pulls the trigger.
When she gets closer, the assassin examines the spell surrounding me.
“What’s uhh…all this?” she gestures to the floating glyphs.
“It’s something I whipped up, I-” I stop myself when I see her leg. “You’re bleeding.”
“Yeah, cut by some glass. Nothing serious.”
I wave a hand over the wound and it closes up. It looks like it never happened. Hollyhock looks at her leg.
“What, no nasty elixir for me to drink?” She asks.
“Why? Do you want one?”
“Thanks but it looks like we’re out of time,” she says, tracking a group of abominations on the second floor. She loads her weapon. I look past her and see a new group getting together.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I don’t have many more clips for this gun.” The assassin gets closer and stands behind me. The last of the undead swarm toward us. Hopefully.
“Are you good on energy?” She inquires.
‘The amount of magic I’ve used is concerning, but we don’t have any other choice.’
“I’m fine, worry about your bullets,” I answer.
“We go back to back and cover each other, got it?”
“You got it, babe!”
🌿💀🔮✨
We brace ourselves against this new tide of unfortunate souls. They flood to us like they know their release lies here.
Two of us versus so many of them.
They don’t stand a fucking chance.
Wordlessly, we open fire simultaneously. Rapid priming glyphs send bolts of magic through skulls with the simple point of a finger and bullets torrent mercilessly with deadly precision.
Despite never having fought together before, and having wildly different methods, we operate like a well-oiled machine. Covering each other’s blind spots and rotating in sync to maintain our perimeter, it’s as if we’re a gestalt of defense.
There is no witch or assassin.
We act as one.
Overwhelming power and perfected skills combine to make a savage hurricane of technology and magic which destroys any that stray too close.
“RELOADING! COVER ME!”
“I GOT IT!”
An empty clip drops and a fresh one gets levitated into the gun.
“THANKS!”
The glyphs perform the task well despite just being improvised.
“I NEED TO PRIME MORE GLYPHS! GIVE ME A SECOND!”
“COPY!” A thermite grenade gets tossed to provide ample cover.
The mall comes back to life with the sounds of gunfire and magic being flung. When there’s no more ammo for the Koji it gets detached and dropped and the Kudzu comes out to play. It punches holes through the undead bodies like they were paper.
“WATCH YOUR HEAD!” A fireball sails by and explodes in the mass of abominations. Years of training make for a quick reload of the shotgun. These shells are explosive and push back more of the horde with each shot. When there’s no more ammo for that, twin GoldenSeal pistols get unleashed. The pair make short work of the undead. Spell after spell gets primed, devastating waves of the corpses. A shot fired from one of the undead tries to pierce a lung but is stopped by the chemically enhanced jacket and a shot is returned in kind.
When the ammo runs dry the Ratkiller is unsheathed. The toxic metal it’s made from won’t do anything to the already deceased, but its razor edge in skilled hands will.
The last of the undead start to close in. Eager, it seems, to meet their demise; they run to us. The Ratkiller probes the brain of the first undead to get too close. It’s swiftly pulled out and finds its way into another. A whip made from fire whooshes to life and wraps around the neck of an abomination, with a strong tug it gets pulled forward and a strong arm punches its head off.
“Thanks for the follow-up!”
“Always!”
An undead tries to bite a thick bicep. Human teeth on a living person couldn’t bite through an ordinary leather jacket, let alone this one. Still, they futilely persist until a strong telekinetic blast dislocates their jaw and the Ratkiller severs their spine.
“That motherfucker just bit me! LIKE! A! ZOMBIE!”
“OH, MY GODS! SHUT UP ABOUT THE ZOMBIES!”
We clean up the rest of the undead, the last one gets dropkicked into a fireball, roasting them as they fall.
Finally, a moment of peace lets us catch our breath. We look at each other and at the same time say,
“You’re amazing.”
“You’re awesome.”
✨🔮✨
Simultaneous compliments given, the assassin searches through the bodies while cleaning her knife and putting it away. She finds a pistol and quickly checks it.
“Hope that was the last of ‘em.”
Unfortunately for us, we both hear scrambling somewhere in the darkness. Hollyhock aims her newly acquired gun towards the source.
Out from the darkness come children, some crawling with unnatural speed, others running like adults. All of them are screaming in soul-shaking horror.
And Hollyhock, bless her heart, freezes. Even though she has to know that they aren’t living children she can’t bring herself to harm them, she actually lowers her gun. I can’t see her face but I can feel the dread coming from her.
The little monstrosities get closer to her and she still doesn’t move. I reach out with telekinesis and wrangle them all together. I compact them as closely as I can, wishing I could shut their screaming up. As soon as they’re close enough I ignite the hottest fire I can underneath them. They’re incinerated in seconds so that Hollyhock won’t have to see their bodies.
The ashes fall down and the apprehension gripping Hollyhock leaves her.
“Thanks,” she says in a shaky voice. She clears her throat. “Let’s get this asshole.”
“Here I am.” The Necromancer has appeared near us. “Come-”
Hollyhock interrupts them again by rapidly firing her gun, getting her nerve back. Again the bullets stop before they reach and fall on the floor. It’s an interesting spell. It can’t be simple telekinesis; bullets are too fast to catch that way.
‘Perhaps a stasis field?’
“We’ll have to talk about your manners at some point,” the necromancer reprimands her.
“Fuck you!” The assassin remarks.
“And by the way, these aren’t zombies.”
“FUCK YOU!” The assassin says with even more venom in her voice.
“Why would you start in with the zombie thing?” I ask.
The necromancer sighs and looks at me, annoyed.
They’re wearing a satiny black overcoat with white lace trim, cinched at the waist. A gauzy shirt peeks from underneath with a solar pattern embroidered into it. Pleated black pants, tight at the waist, and cuffed at the bottom to show off their boots. Shiny, black, and buckled, the boots are bedazzled with rhinestone skulls.
Their coat and the shirt under it are open, to display a blood-red cameo necklace that rests in the center of their chest. The cameo is enchanted, it has a moving image of a young child’s face. The child is laughing with a brilliant smile and dazzling violet eyes.
All of their clothes are enchanted, the necklace has an extremely powerful ward on it from what I can tell. I know they’re assessing my dress’s enchantments as well.
“Do you know how many years of work you two have undone?”
“Do you know that these are people? Real people, that you’ve been using for this?” Hollyhock points out.
“Since when does a Bay Leaf care about people?”
Hollyhock cracks her knuckles.
“How do you know that?”
“There are few people in this city with your skills and equipment. You and yours kill so much, it’s only natural I would know about you.”
“Why were you planning to attack IronHenge?”
“Your use of ‘were’ implies I’m no longer doing so.”
“We just took out your entire army,” Hollyhock says.
“Along with your creepy children,” I add.
“You took out some of my army, and the children were to be shock troops. Some psychological warfare.”
‘That’s actually quite devious.’
“Where’s the rest of them?” Hollyhock asks.
“I’m not telling you that!”
“I bet they’re in the basement,” she says to me.
“....” The necromancer’s silence makes me think the rest are in the basement.
“You didn’t answer my question: why attack IronHenge?”
“And after I tell you, should I offer some champagne and ambrosia? My reasons for wiping out that Arcanium are my own. And what those reasons are don’t matter because I’m going to kill you both.”
Their teal blue aura starts spreading over them like a rapidly growing fungus. The fact that they’ve controlled all these corpses and still have the energy to fight speaks volumes of their power.
But I’m not tired either.
I’ve dueled other magicians before but this will be the first time there won’t be a witch on standby. Only one of us gets to walk out of here.
And I’d like to walk out with Hollyhock.
The necromancer quickly primes a spell and fires it at the assassin in question, hoping to take her out first. A magic bolt flies toward her and she backflips out of the way. I have to wonder what her training entailed as she elegantly spins and twists in the air dodging more magical blasts, keeping her footing among the numerous dead bodies. She finds a pillar to find cover behind.
“Leave her alone!” I prime the lightning spell I used before and fire off three shots. The necromancer deflects the first two but the third lands in their chest. Rather than being electrocuted, the necklace protects them; dispelling my lightning.
‘It’s a protection ward.’
Before I fire off a fourth shot, the necromancer fires another two bolts, one comes at me from an angle. I activate my shield ward to block the first, then turn the block the second. The impact staggers me backward and when I recover the necromancer is already right in front of me.
‘Shit.’
They deliver a strong left hook right across my face, making me spin onto the floor. They follow up with a kick to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I can barely get my hands under me before they grab me by my collar and pin me against a pillar. One arm presses me by the neck, their free hand primes a thin magic needle; sharp enough to pierce my dress. They pull back to stab me.
“HEY!” Hollyhock yells. She found another gun and fires a few shots. Again the bullets never reach their mark but the necromancer is sufficiently distracted. I activate a ward on my shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut. A bright light is produced from the ward that blinds the necromancer. They release me and cover their eyes. I drop to the floor, coughing my lungs out. Hollyhock throws her gun and it smacks against the necromancer’s head.
‘Whatever the spell is protecting them, it only stops things traveling fast.’
I sweep my legs and trip the necromancer. They fall flat on their face and Hollyhock sprints over to us. She gets here when the necromancer gets up to their knees, so Hollyhock drives hers into their chin. The necromancer reels back and puts up their fists to fight. They might be very muscular for a magician, but it’s nothing compared to Hollyhock. I start priming a complex ice spell.
Even if they weren’t just blinded, I don’t think the necromancer could put up much of a fight against the assassin. They jab at her but might as well be moving in slow motion with fast she sidesteps, landing a punch to the solar plexus. She then grabs and twists their wrist, the assassin gives a quick hit to the back of their elbow. She pulls back her arm to deliver a more devastating palm strike that’ll break the arm.
But the necromancer sends a quick blast of telekinesis right at her helmet. It makes the front part crack. The impact would’ve broken the neck of a weaker person.
But Hollyhock works out.
She slams her head forward into the necromancer’s. Her helmet falls apart and she has a furious look on her face. She breaks the necromancer’s arm clean in half. They roar out in pain and Hollyhock grabs them by the hair and slams her knee into their nose. She follows up with a devastating barrage of punches to the face. The assassin lands four of them before the necromancer pushes her high into the air with a blast of telekinesis.
She goes up maybe forty feet in the air before she starts falling. I can’t move my arms away from the spell I’m priming so I reach out with my mind to grab her. Using even simple spells with only the mind takes a toll, but it’s either that or she dies.
I manage to grab her just before she hits the ground. Her body weight is a strain on my telekinesis, so I ungently drop her. Better than the forty feet it would’ve been, she only falls three feet.
“THANK YOU!” she shouts in appreciation. In that time the necromancer administered a restoration spell to fix their arm. Just as I’m finished with my spell.
I fling the large ball of ice at them. They counter with a fire spell, which I was hoping for. The ice ball explodes and reforms into a large sort of dome cage sucking all the oxygen from the flames. I make the structure of the cage protrude spikes to skewer the necromancer but they somehow block them all in time.
Hollyhock still hasn’t gotten up.
🌿💀🌿
I don’t care how sexy this motherfucker is, nobody flings me that high in the air. Can’t even get back up from the pain though, I feel like I got hit in the chest with a battering ram. This jacket has saved me once more, but I think it's done for. If I get hit like that again, it’ll go right through me. I take some deep breaths and push the crushing pain away.
“This fight isn’t over,” I tell myself. As if I need to say that, I catch a glimpse of these magical people fighting. Seeing shit I’ve never seen outside of a movie, I’ll likely get killed if I go back into the fray. I prop myself up on my elbows.
‘Should’ve just died the day I met Witch-Hazel, that would’ve been easier.’
I violently shake the thought from my head.
‘That’s quitter talk, Tamara didn’t raise a quitter! I’m a fucking Bay Leaf! This asshole tried to reanimate Bahi! This asshole made the Falecido, the asshole who stole my bike! They inadvertently ruined my life!’
Rage fills my body, I get up to my feet and pull out Ratkiller. I look over to see Witch-Hazel being overpowered by the necromancer in a clash of elements. My earpiece is gone, so I have no way of letting Witch-Hazel know this, but I need her to hold out for a bit.
I exhale and stalk towards them like I have to so many targets before. I sacrifice some stealth for speed. The necromancer won’t hear me over the magic clash anyway.
By the time they sense me, I’m already right behind them. The Ratkiller slides nice and easy into their kidney. Warm blood trickles out to coat the handle. They scream out and swing their arm back to hit me. I duck under it and swipe up to slice the Brachial artery. They go to hold the wound on their arm. Witch-Hazel falls over to catch her breath. She’ll have to be fine, my opponent is right in front of me.
The poisonous metal would start causing nerve damage in a normal human. But with how fast they fixed their arm, I’m guessing it’s going to take a few more cuts to do the trick.
They reach up to do something but I quickly slice the back of their hand. I learned my lesson: that I don’t want to get too close. I need to be able to dodge whatever they might throw at me. The necromancer can’t decide between healing their wounds and attacking me. Good, it gives Witch-Hazel more time to recover. I start to circle them, hoping to move us both away from Witch-Hazel. I lunge forward and they flinch so I pull back. I lurch forward again but switch the knife to a reverse grip and slice their thigh.
We play our game of cat and mouse for a while. I feint to the left, throw the knife to my right hand and slice their calf. They reach for the knife again, I drop it into my other hand and give them a cut just under their floating rib. They’ll have to stop to deal with the pain eventually.
The necromancer takes off their fancy coat and throws it at me. An age-old trick. I somersault underneath it, but something grabs me. Shadows shot out from the coat and wrapped themselves around my arms and legs.
‘Oh, right. Magic.’
The coat pulls and slams me on my back. My arms are forced to my sides. I try to break free but I might as well try to bend steel, I can’t get any leverage at all. The shadows squeeze my wrists until I let go of the knife.
“Too scared to fight me without your BDSM coat?” I taunt. The coat moves my arms up like I’m about to be crucified. Historically, not a great sign. I try in vain to get up. All those push-ups and crunches I did and I can’t even escape a piece of clothing.
“Yes, actually. Pride is a stupid reason to get killed.” They healed their wounds and saunter over to me. I can’t see Witch-Hazel from here. The necromancer grabs the knife. “You’ll make an excellent soldier.” They straddle me and turn the knife over in their hands.
“You have an interesting aura,” they note.
“Thanks, I got it on sale,” I quip while still trying to get out.
“It’s a shame you’ll never get to use it,” they say while zipping my jacket down. They lift the blade up to stab me in the chest.
It looks like this is it for me, so as a last act of defiance, I spit in their eyes. The necromancer slowly wipes their face.
“That was disgusting,” they comment.
“Worth it.”
They lift the blade up high.
“I SAID LEAVE HER ALONE!” Witch-Hazel shouts. The necromancer stops to look at her. A look of despair takes them over. I turn my head as much as I can to see.
Witch-Hazel is standing there screaming her lungs out, the magic rising from her is so thick it doesn’t look purple but pitch-black. She then catches on fire.
✨🔮✨
‘Maybe I should’ve ignored the necromancer’s experiments. Just enjoyed my days with Hollyhock.’
I’ve used far more magic than I planned on using.
All of this ends tonight.
IronHenge should send sorcerers to deal with this.
My lungs can’t get enough air into my body. All my limbs hurt so much, and I think one of my ribs is cracked. Fire burns deep within me somewhere. I roll over to my front to see Hollyhock, brave Hollyhock fighting the necromancer. She’s using her knife to slice them up.
‘Thank Gods and Goddesses for her.’
I just need a couple of moments to get back to fighting shape. I focus on healing my rib. Ignore the rest of the pain I’m in.
Then I hear a thud. I look up to see Hollyhock pinned to the floor by the necromancer’s coat. She can’t break free. The necromancer walks over to her.
“Leave her alone,” I meekly say. I can barely hold myself up. The throbbing pain my body is in makes it hard to concentrate. Fire rises from deep. The necromancer gets on top of her.
“Leave her alone!” I say again. My head is pounding like it’s going to split in two.
The necromancer has her knife and lifts it up to use it.
“I SAID LEAVE HER ALONE!” I shout.
Fury quickly consumes me.
The most dangerous magicians are the ones that let their emotions take them over, they endanger everyone around them and themselves. They run the risk of burning out their lifeforce. I know that but I can’t help it. I’ve already seen someone I love die, I’m not doing it again!
Fire is barely held inside me.
This world has already hurt Hollyhock so much. I will NOT be the reason she dies!
All the pain has left my body as I stand, but my head is in agony. I have to scream to alleviate it.
I can’t hold back anymore.
I let the fire wash over me.
🌿💀🌿
Witch-Hazel, almost instantaneously, moves to be right next to us. The necromancer barely has time to block as she swats them like a fly. They hurtle backward, skipping like a stone on water. With a twitch of her finger, the damn coat lets go of me. I roll off it and she sets it on fire. She advances on the necromancer preparing another spell in her hand.
I’m awestruck as I look at her. Flames cover her head to toe, resting just above her skin. The heat has me sweating but she’s unfazed by it. I’ve never seen her look so enraged before. She aims a hand at the necromancer. From her palm comes a stream of fire that looks like it should be propelling a fighter jet. The necromancer delays painful death by making a magic shield. How they can withstand the heat alone is beyond me. The rising temperature is making me dizzy.
The necromancer must hate IronHenge with a passion because they stand up against the fire. I feel unsteady and trip over a corpse. Not too far from me I spy a Thistle .22 and start moving to it. I crawl over the piles of dead bodies.
Witch-Hazel is standing still, letting her endless fire do all the work. If the necromancer getting up and moving towards her troubles her she makes no indication of it. She prepares a spell in her other hand. The necromancer gets closer and closer.
I grab the Thistle .22 and check it. The name is a bit of a misnomer, the twenty-two not referring to the caliber it shoots but the number of bullets that comes within a standard clip. It’s fully loaded. Hopefully, I won’t need all twenty-two shots.
The overwhelming heat has me drenched in sweat, exhausted. But I focus up as the necromancer gets closer to Witch-Hazel.
One deep breath.
Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Squeeze.
The bullet doesn’t get stopped this time. It digs its way into the necromancer’s thigh.
“Take that asshole.”
They fall to one knee. Witch-Hazel fires a second stream of fire. The necromancer’s shield fails and the fire takes them. Their necklace protects a small part of their body but it hardly matters. Witch-Hazel bears down on them, torching the necromancer and the surrounding ground. Her face twists in anger.
“Hazel!” I shout at her. She snaps to look at me. “It’s over,” I tell her. She reluctantly extinguishes the flames in her hands. Without the oppressive heat, I find the strength to stand up and walk over. I still hold the gun at the ready. But I don’t think it’s necessary. What’s left of the necromancer is a charred crisp that rests on their knees. Their necklace remains untouched, a young child’s face still laughs on it.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Witch-Hazel relaxes and the flames over her body dissipate. She looks the necromancer over.
Suddenly they laugh.
“Figures all my work would be undone by a human and a...what?”
“A witch,” she supplies. The necromancer laughs again. I can’t imagine the pain they’re in just by doing this.
“Undone by a human and a witch.”
“Yeah, nothing a few thousand bullets and spells can’t do,” I conclude. Witch-Hazel turns to me.
“You’ve said that before,” she notes.
“Okay, well they didn’t know that, now did they?”
The necromancer laughs again.
“You two are cute.” they sigh. “It’s probably for the best that it ended like this. I’m not sure what I would’ve done after. At least it wasn’t a boring sorcerer who killed me…You’re very powerful.”
“Why did you want to attack IronHenge?” Witch-Hazel asks once more. The necromancer looks down at their necklace.
“As your friend said before: fuck you.” The necromancer crumbles, falling over and dying. I scratch the back of my head.
“Well, that was rude,” I say. Witch-Hazel is just standing there silent. Before tonight, I had no reference to gauge how powerful Witch-Hazel is. Now that I do, I’m a little scared. Not of her, but that entire fight was terrifying. I should stay on her good side.
With the necromancer dead, I guess the wards they placed are gone. The temperature here starts to match what’s outside.
“You good, girl?” I ask.
“Yes I’m...fine,” she says.
“You sure?” She seems okay, all things considered. Her dress has a few scratches on it, but she’s otherwise unscathed.
“Do you want to get your things?” She asks. That honestly sounds like a huge pain in the ass right now. I’d rather eat glass than traipse around this mall looking for my guns. I look over the Thistle .22 I picked up. This thing helped kill the necromancer so it's coming home with me.
“Nah, we’ll deal with all,” I gesture around “this shit later.”
Witch-Hazel hasn’t taken her eyes off the necromancer.
“I’ve never killed so many people at once before,” I say. It’s an obvious statement, I’m not some super mass murderer or anything, but it’s to get to what I think the problem is.
“You didn’t kill anyone,” Witch-Hazel says “all these people died long ago, you just let them rest. The only person who died was them. And I killed them.” There’s a thick tension in her words.
“You did what you had to do,” I assure her. “It was either this or they would’ve attacked your home. How many innocent people would’ve died?” She sighs.
“You’re right, I know you are. I just...wanted to know why. What would’ve driven them to do all this?” She gestures around. I shake my head.
“We don’t always get those answers. Trust me, it’ll drive you crazy thinkin’ about this shit. Accept you did a good thing, ‘cause otherwise,” I shake my head again. “I don’t really know what to say but-”
“You don’t have to say anything. You being here, fighting for me, was more than enough.”
“Anytime, babe. C’mon, let’s go home, get some sleep.” She nods solemnly.
“Home,” she says. “That sounds nice.”
Despite the ominous way she said it, she teleports us back to my place.
It’s nice to not be smelling hundreds if not thousands of corpses.
I’m dead tired, but I should shower, but I might pass out if I have to stand for another minute.
Witch-Hazel still seems troubled. I guess she’s earned that right. The zipper on my jacket is busted, I’ll just pull the whole thing over my head because I can’t deal with this bullshit right now.
A knock comes at my door.
‘Can I not get one moment of peace? Just one? Is that really so much to ask?’
Witch-Hazel looks at the door.
“It’s probably one of my dumbass neighbors, hold on,” I tell her. Need to mentally psych myself up as I approach the door. I tuck my new gun in the back of my pants.
“Wait!” she says, a worried look on her pretty face.
“What?”
The door suddenly unlocks itself and I feel like gravity has increased on me. I collapse to the ground, hitting my head first.
Walking through my door like she owns the place, is a tall, older, and slender Black woman. Wearing an all-black outfit of a corset top to highlight her frame, and a gathered skirt to show off her legs. Being on the floor I get a good look at her pristine all-white high-top sneakers that are untied. They look brand new.
Her left arm is at her side and the right rests on her hip. If I didn’t know magic existed, I’d find it odd that her right arm is translucent chartreuse green. Many rings on both hands. She has copper-brown skin and jet black Bantu knots sit on her head. From what I can see of her face she has high cheekbones, a sharp chin, and ruby red eyes.
The mysterious woman barely acknowledges me and walks past. The door closes on its own. She approaches Witch-Hazel who’s curled into herself; like a child who’s been caught doing something bad.
As soon as I can get up, I’m beating this bitch’s ass.
✨🔮✨
Mentor Acacia, it had to be her. Out of all the magicians in IronHenge, she had to be the one to find me?
‘Of course she had to. Her protegé sneaks off to the other side of the world, and she’s not going to handle it herself? I wonder if anyone else even knows I’m gone.’
I knew if I used too much magic they’d find me. I was just really hoping it wouldn’t be from a fight for my life.
This is what I’ve been dreading since the first day I came out here, and now it’s even worse because of her presence. Anyone else I could’ve maybe persuaded or at least outran. But she’s like a stone wall and she can chase anything or anyone down.
I quickly glance at Hollyhock to see her struggling to get up.
“Focus,” Acacia says, her voice as strict as always. I divert all my attention to her. “You already know what I’m going to say, yes?”
I nod.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s not waste time, gather your things.”
“No one’s…gathering shit,” Hollyhock says, strained. The assassin has gotten up to her knees. My mentor looks at her, surprised, somewhat. The spell she used is supposed to completely immobilize a person, but it’s usually for people who are much physically weaker. “Hazel…isn’t going…anywhere.”
Upon hearing her say my name, she turns back to me.
“The human knows you?” She asks in Latin to disguise our conversation.
“Yes,” I admit.
“You know the laws about that,” she says.
🌿💀🌿
I’ve had enough magic fucking me up for one night, I really have.
My jacket might as well be made out of lead right now, the gun concealed under it is like a fifty pound weight. Think I might pull a muscle in my neck trying to look at them. Whoever this bitch is, she’s lucky I’ve been fighting all night. Otherwise, I could possibly be standing right now.
She and Witch-Hazel start speaking in what I think is Latin.
‘Who the fuck speaks Latin anymore?’
I reach for my gun.
✨🔮✨
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Hollyhock reaching for her gun. It’s not going to help the situation at all.
“Am I straining your attention?” Acacia asks.
“No, I’m listening. I just think-”
“What you think, doesn’t matter. The law states that any non-magical human that sees any sign of magic must have their memory wiped.”
“There’s more to this than just that,” I start to explain “she-”
“Save your excuses. Perhaps, if you hadn’t run away and exposed this human to our ways, she wouldn’t be getting her mind wiped. But that’s the reality we’re living in.”
🌿💀🌿
Holding the gun in my hand feels like I’m carrying the entire world. It’s taking everything I got to not have my shoulder dislocate.
‘Just you wait, bitch.’
The two of them have started arguing it seems. I’m waiting for Witch-Hazel to shoot her with a fireball or something.
God, this gun is heavy.
✨🔮✨
“Wait!” I shout at Mentor Acacia. She gives me a look that could level a mountain.
“Who do you think you’re yelling at?” She seethes.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that she has a life here, people depend on her, good people.” She doesn’t need to know the whole truth. “Wiping her memory will affect all of that.”
“I don’t care if she’s the president of this godsforsaken country. We don’t get to pick and choose when it’s convenient for us to follow our laws. ” Mentor Acacia walks closer to Hollyhock and I get in the way.
“She gave me a place to stay, took care of me, and she saved my life! That has to count for something!”
“It means she’s a decent person, a rarity for sure in this world, but it changes nothing.”
🌿💀🌿
I finally got this damn gun in a horizontal position and then Witch-Hazel gets in the way. I can’t keep it up for long so I let it rest as much as I can.
‘What are they saying?’
✨🔮✨
“Wait, wiping her memory completely is too harsh. Just…just wipe the time we’ve been together. You know how long I’ve been gone. I’ve been with her since the day I left. She lived a completely non-magical life before we met. I’m begging you, please.”
Mentor Acacia has no reason to oblige my request, I know she doesn’t.
“I’ll go back to IronHenge with you with no trouble, and I won’t let anyone find out about this. Just don’t take all her memories, please.”
I’d rather not be in conflict with her, but Hollyhock is worth it.
Mentor Acacia stares at me, and I don’t know what she’s thinking or what she sees in my eyes.
“If it’ll get you to come back peacefully, then fine; I’ll only take the time you’ve spent together,” she agrees. I sigh in relief.
‘It’s better than everything.’
“I know it doesn’t matter but can I have a moment to say goodbye?”
Mentor Acacia rolls her eyes and makes a sound of disgust. She walks further into the apartment to give me some semblance of privacy and takes off the immobilization spell on Hollyhock.
🌿💀🌿
The feeling of intense gravity has disappeared. But I’m still drained from the effort.
Witch-Hazel turns around and kneels so that we’re eye to eye.
She can barely hold in her tears. Those soft hands cup the back of my head and she pulls me in for a kiss.
✨🔮✨
It’s a frenzied, desperate kiss we share. Those lips I’ve wanted to taste for all these days are finally on mine. I gently put a hand on hers holding the gun. She obliges my wordless request and drops it. I put my hand back on her head and she pulls me closer by my waist.
‘Gods and Goddesses, I want to kiss her forever and ever.’
🌿💀🌿
Her lips are unimaginably soft. It’s almost as if they were made for mine. Despite all the shit I’ve been through the last couple of hours, I feel more serene than I have in years.
I feel her tears wet my cheeks and the tingling sensation of her magic on the back of my head.
It’s our first kiss, so why does it feel like a goodbye?
✨🔮✨
I only have but so long to copy Hollyhock’s memories. Of all our time together. My hands light up as I perform the complex spell.
We both lean deeper into the kiss.
I want her to remember this, I need her to remember this. To remember my touch, remember me.
Even though I know she won’t.
🌿💀🌿
Witch-Hazel pulls away from the kiss that left me breathless. She takes my face in her hands and looks at me with those beautiful gray eyes of hers.
“Goodbye,” she whispers. Hazel stands up and backs away, taking her place is the green arm bitch.
✨🔮✨
“I’d say you should thank my protegé that I’m not completely wiping your memory. And that it’s a sign of my gratitude for taking care of her, but you won’t remember it anyway,” Mentor Acacia says to Hollyhock.
“What?” She replies since that was in Latin. My Mentor rolls her eyes again and groans in disgust. She puts her right hand on Hollyhock’s temple. The assassin tries to fight her off but it’s too late.
🌿💀🌿
Her hand on my head is not a pleasant experience. It feels like tiny explosions all over my skin, and that’s before the pain in my head starts.
✨🔮✨
Hollyhock grits her teeth against the pain of having memories forcibly taken. She yells out in agony and I force myself to look because I brought this upon her.
When the ordeal is done, she falls over, unconscious.
“Gather your things and let’s go,” Mentor Acacia demands.
I look at Hollyhock.
Even though there’s no way for her to know this, I vow to get her memories back to her.
I promise I will.
This isn’t goodbye, it’s a see you later.
I teleport all my belongings out of her apartment, making it look empty and cold once again. Then finally we leave her there on the floor.
Ch. 20 End
Volume 1. End