“You’re leaving now?!” Barlow asks incredulously as I pace back and forth. I’m thinking about all the stuff I should take.

“The Necromancer is back. I don’t know how, but I felt their magic all the way over here. If they go after Hollyhock, she’ll have no idea what she's going up against. They might be recovering now, but we both know it doesn’t take long for a magician to get back on their feet.”

“Depends on the magician.”

“Barlow.”

“I’m just saying, you had a pretty intense battle with them. Even they’d have to take time to recuperate.”

“I’m all good,” I point out.

“‘All good?’”

“Sorry, something Hollyhock says. I’m in prime shape, I mean to say.”

“Well, you’ve been alive the whole time with the added benefit of not being burnt to a crisp.”

“Be that as it may, the Necromancer won’t need to be at full power to go after her. And since the assassin doesn’t have the luxury of being on the other side of the planet, safe behind IronHenge’s walls, it’s crucial I get there as soon as possible.”

“You’re right, I’m not denying the danger, I just think you should wait until tonight when everyone’s partied out. It’ll be easier to sneak out, I think.”

I shake my head.

“No, besides the fact that I can’t wait, I don’t think sneaking out again is going to do me any favors.”

“Because Mentor Acacia will go after you again,” Barlow realizes.

“If I leave without getting caught, then no one else besides her will know about it. And we still don’t know why she came alone and why she kept it secret.”

“So, you want to get caught breaking one of the oldest rules we have, to avoid your Mentor?”

“If you phrase it like that, it sounds dumb.”

“I just don’t see it as a better alternative. If she goes after you herself, you get scolded again. If you get caught, you’ll get in trouble with the Council.”

My anxiety is building ever greater.

“I DON’T KNOW BARLOW!” I immediately regret shouting. “Sorry, I’m not yelling at you.”

He puts his hands up in a placating gesture.

“I just…” I take a moment to stop pacing. “I don’t have all the answers right now. All I know is that Hollyhock is in danger, and I’m the only one who can save her. I can’t-” Words get jumbled in my mouth. “Think of anything else,” I manage to say. I know acting hastily will lead to unforeseen consequences, but I can’t sit around anymore. Something has to be done.

Barlow snaps his fingers and his face lights up.

“I’ve got an idea! Get proof!”

Not getting it, I ask,

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so you leave in a way that gets you caught, you go save Hollyhock, and get proof of the Necromancer! Bring proof that you left for a valid reason, that’ll get you some grace with the Council.”

I nod, considering it. This plan gives me a shield from whatever agenda Mentor Acacia has.

“What proof can I get? And how would I explain how I knew about it?”

Barlow shrugs.

“I didn’t get that far, sorry. This seems like a slightly better outcome if you’re set on avoiding your Mentor, that is.”

I never did find out why she went after me herself, or tell anyone else. Maybe it’s because of the time I spent with the assassin, but I sense there’s more to this. Until I find out more, I don’t want any part of it.

And I don’t want Hollyhock to suffer more because of it too.

“Okay. That’s the plan. That’s what I’ll do. Thanks, Barlow. I know this whole situation hasn’t been easy to deal with.”

He shrugs again.

“It’s been exciting at least. I’ll tell Azalea we have to kick it into high gear to find something on our end, you go save the day. Or night. It should be nighttime there, right?”

“Should be, yeah. Thanks again. I have to get ready.” Barlow nods and departs.

I undress and go to my wardrobe. With a fight in mind, I take a short, flowy black dress off the rack. It’s void black, almost impossible to see in low light. The garment has a litany of enchantments, both protective and supportive measures.

It seems like something the assassin would wear.

Not that I’ve seen her wear one.

Regardless, I put it on and go over to my bed. First, I retrieve the boots Hollyhock gave me. They may not be magically enchanted, but they do their job well. Once I slip them on, I pull out a thin case that’s been tucked deep beneath my bed.

My hands don’t tremble like the first time I held the case. Inside are some items Floribunda left me.

Truthfully, they weren’t but to assuage my grief, I was given these things. Enchanted paintings of us, trinkets, and other such memorabilia we shared. But I didn’t open this case for nostalgia’s sake. Under all the soft, tragic memories sits the object I need.

A length of red silk lies innocuously. It has a deceptive weight as I pick it up, heavier than any right it has to be.

Floribunda crafted this herself. No wider than my index finger, when inert it’s about as long as my forearm. Sending a small amount of magical energy through it allows the holder to extend or shorten its length at will. Additionally, it hardens and functions as a blade.

I never questioned Floribunda as to why she made such a thing. Personally, I just think she thought it’d be cool. I still remember when she showed it to me and bound it. Through very esoteric enchantments, it only responded to her until she allowed me to also be a wielder. She pressed our forearms together and had the ribbon wrap around them.

With her gone, I’m its only wielder. This is a simple but effective weapon, capable of piercing any defensive measure if provided enough energy.

I didn’t bring it when I first left because I thought I wouldn’t need a weapon out there. I also lack any skills to efficiently utilize such a weapon. But it will serve as a last resort.

It’s sat in the dark long enough; this, along with many other things, must be brought to light.

I tap it with a tiny bit of magic, and it slithers to life, the fabric quickly glides up my arm, past my neck, and into my hair.

It ties itself up while swiftly pulling my hair back into a simple braid.

With nothing else needed, I head outside. I ignore the afternoon sun in my eyes and teleport to the long-standing walls of IronHenge.

The materials of these walls have never changed in their history. Composed of cut stones that have been transmuted into iron, half the reason why this Arcanium has this name. Standing around twenty feet tall, the only thing that’s changed are the multitudinous spells, wards, enchantments, and other magical systems maintained around its perimeter.

Since its founding, never once has it been breached. That is until I came along, but I’ve always considered myself exceptional.

However, the existence of the Necromancer in Oleander City suggests otherwise.

Guess my claim to fame will be found elsewhere.

Wait, I don’t have time for this.

Sorcerers patrol the walls; between communicative magics, sensory boosts, and the fact we’re in a time of peace, the patrols are solitary.

They’re the only ones allowed to leave without permission, within reason. I’ve always envied them and wanted to be one when I was younger for that reason alone.

And while they’d be more suited to this particular endeavor, I don’t have time to explain the situation.

I need to deal with this myself. I teleport up to the ramparts and look for the nearest patrol. He finds me before I find him and teleports next to me.

“Hazel?” He recognizes me, but I can’t place his ridiculously handsome face. He’s dressed in a white kurta. It’s enchanted to have swirling patterns of various colors, very disorienting to look at. I now realize that I haven’t come up with a plan.

‘What would Hollyhock do?’

Lie.

“I have something to show you, it’s urgent.”

“What is it?”

I take a page out of the Necromancer’s book and prime a spell of suspension. A small part of me feels a little bad doing this to him, but Hollyhock is more important.

“This.” I slam my hand into his chest. He recoils from the impact and freezes in place. I took a huge chance that he didn’t have active defensive wards on his person. Fate favors me, it seems. That and he’s a very sloppy sorcerer.

I search him for his sorcerer emblem. It not only denotes his position but allows him to pass through the barrier without being ripped to shreds. The spell is holding him in place and I sense no resistance to it. My full concentration needs to be on the Necromancer, so I can’t worry about this guy.

I’ll release the spell after the Necromancer has been dealt with, or if someone tries to break it. Or if I die. But hopefully, just the first thing happens.

I trepidatiously stick a hand through the barrier. Since I’m not experiencing every atom of my limb being undone, I assume it’s safe for the rest of me to go through. As I exit the barrier, I realize that I’m twenty feet off the ground, walking into nothing.

Before I crash into the ground, I manage to catch myself with a gust of wind.

“That would've been an embarrassing way to end this outing,” I say to no one. A quick look around the empty grasslands confirms no one heard me talking to myself.

With no time to waste, I melt into the ley line and become one with the magic. My mind hones in on Oleander City.

On Hollyhock.

Moments later, I reform in front of the assassin’s building. My heart flutters at the familiar shape.

It’s dark here, and too hot for this late hour. I teleport into her apartment. Why is it hotter here than it is outside? Her AC isn’t on. Maybe she isn’t home. She could be out on a job. I hope that’s the case. I linger in the living room, reminiscing on all the time I’ve spent here with her. My eyes land on the spot where I left her, in horrible pain and without her memories.

Two halves of me go into conflict. If I never left, then we wouldn’t have met. But if I never met her, then she wouldn’t have suffered like that.

I squash this internal strife. There are more important things to worry about. If she’s not here, I don’t have time to wait around for her. Maybe I can go to her HQ or just go straight after the Necromancer.

My mind is still set on finding her, my senses reach out and I hear a heartbeat.

On instinct, I know it’s Hollyhock’s. It came from further in her home.

Her bedroom.

I walk towards it and see an empty, dark room. There are straps and a pillow in the corner. Strange. Maybe she’s in her weapon alcove.

THUMP

I hear it again, that strong and slow heartbeat of hers. It’s close, it’s in this room, it’s…above me.

Shit.

Hollyhock swings down from the ceiling and kicks me in the chest with both feet.

If that didn’t knock all the breath out of me, hitting the ground surely does. I barely have a second to get any kind of bearings before she crashes on top of me. The assassin expertly pins my arms with her left hand and right foot. Her left leg presses against my waist.

I feel cold metal press against my throat.

When stars stop spinning around my vision, I get a clear look at Hollyhock, and my heart breaks a little more.

She has a gash across her face. It’s still fresh, with stitches in it and some blood seeping through. Some of her ear is missing as well. There’s a band-aid across the bridge of her nose.

But is it her eyes that haunt me the most: bereft of warm recognition, cold and calculative pupils bore into me. She stares at me like a complete stranger. I know her memory of me is gone, but a tiny part wanted to believe a fragment of our time together would shine through.

I struggle to catch my breath between her weight on me and not wanting to cough right in her face.

She leans in closer and in a low growl she says,

“You have 10 seconds to tell me who sent you and how you got in here before I slit your pretty little throat.”

…

I can’t believe I just got a little aroused by that. Having full knowledge of her skill and capability of killing, the threat is definitively real. Yet I get a tiny bit excited as her breath touches my face, the very sound of her voice.

‘Focus.’

I know that I could force her off with magic, but I can’t stomach the idea of hurting her more. Plus, I think she could slice my trachea open before I could do that.

“Have you had blackouts recently?” I ask, knowing the answer. Her eyes widen in fear for a moment before they harden in anger.

“How. The. Fuck. Do you know that?” Each word burns with rage. She presses the knife harder against my neck. Its razor-sharp edge cuts the skin a bit.

“I can help. Please let me.”

She stares at me as she considers my proposal. Her eyes twitch, and I know it’s from the pain the spell is causing her. She doesn’t know she’s looking at the very thing causing the turmoil her head is in. I need to undo it before serious damage happens.

She pulls the knife back a bit.

“How?”

“If you get off me, I’ll show you. I don’t have any weapons, I want to help you.”

Realistically, I know her training and her nonexistent knowledge of magic make this a ridiculous offer. She’d be in the right not to believe me. But I can’t lie to her, I’m here to help.

Maybe she senses the truth of what I say. Or her curiosity coerces her. That, or the pain she’s fighting to control, dulls her decision-making; but she pulls the knife away.

The assassin stands and lets me get up. As I catch my breath, I feel my chest and consider the possibility that a rib or two is fractured.

Hollyhock, knife still in her right hand, moves to frisk me for weapons. Her free, strong, callused hand touches my waist and back. She backs away but keeps the knife between us.

We cautiously move to the living room. I’m not sure if she guides me there or if I lead the way.

“Well?” She asks. Though she puts up a strong front, I see her clenching her jaw to fight the pain.

“Can you put down the knife?” I beg her. I’ve seen how fast she can slice and stab, I’d rather her not have it in hand at the moment.

She looks at me and the weapon in her hand. I’m guessing she decides she can kill me with her bare hands if need be.

The knife gets lowered to the table by the couch. Her eyes lock onto me. I slowly approach and her hands ball into fists.

“This will feel…strange,” I explain as I lift my hands. She tenses up as I put my hands on the sides of her head.

“What are you going to do?” Her voice is strained.

“You have to trust me,” I say. She has no reason to, far as she knows, I’m an absolute stranger who broke into her house. But she tries to relax a bit as I press my hands a little more.

One hand undoes the spell, while the other transmits her memories. This is an instantaneous process as Hollyhock recoils from my hands.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!” She grabs her head and clutches it desperately. Weeks of memories flood into her mind and meld into her synapses. This is the last pain I wish to cause her. “YOU BITCH!” She reaches for the knife, but the pain causes her to fall to her knees. I take a step back. She groans through it all, holding her head for dear life. I can only watch as she huddles over in agony.

Then her breathing slows. Relief washes over her and she takes a deep breath.

She looks up at me and my heart melts.

“Witch-Hazel?” She asks like she needs to be sure. The spark of recognition is alight in her smoky quartz eyes. The cold, indifferent edge has thawed and the warmth of the woman I love starts to radiate through.

I nod, as if I can’t believe I really did it.

Hollyhock gets up and hugs me tightly like I’ll disappear at any moment. I hesitate to hug her back, feeling like I don’t deserve it after what I put her through. But she deserves a hug back. I wrap my arms around her and if I incidentally enjoy it, that’s fine.

She’s lost some weight.

We hold each other and I can't help but wonder what she’s been through.

“Fields of Elysium, I can’t believe it’s you. You have no idea what a relief this is,” she says to me.

Hollyhock pulls us apart and looks at me with a concerned face. Her eyes land on my neck.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“I know, I know. It’s fine.” I interject.

“It’s not fine, I-”

With a wave of my hand, the small cut heals. I take a moment to mend my ribs.

“Ahh, that’s right: magic.”

“It comes in handy.”

Hollyhock grabs my shoulders with both hands and looks me over. A question forms on her face.

“Did you kiss me?”

That wasn’t the first inquiry I was expecting out of her mouth.

“Yes, but I was-” She doesn’t let me finish as she pulls me in for a kiss. Her hands cup my face and her lips press against mine.

‘Wait, I have to tell her about the Necromancer.’

Her lips are dry and chapped, but so unimaginably soft.

‘We can spare a minute.’

She presses deeper into the kiss, her hands gliding from my face down to my back.

‘A few more minutes.’

My hands go to her waist, and she chuckles as they slowly creep to her ass.

‘Half an hour.’

She guides us to a wall and backs me against it. She grabs me by my hips.

I can’t form any more thoughts.

Our first kiss was a frenzied act, rushed by necessity. But this one, this is a slow dance. There’s no one interrupting this time and no reason for us to stop. It’s a welcome-back kiss if ever there was one.

Given the situation before, I hadn’t noticed, but Hollyhock is an excellent kisser. Each press and retreat of her lips leaves me wanting more and more.

I could be in this bliss forever, but she pulls back and looks at me with a smile.

“Now, we’re even,” she says. I try to catch my breath and steady my heart. With this moment of rest, I take time to look at Hollyhock’s face. Besides the gash across her cheek, I can’t help but notice the bags under her eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping, then again neither have I. Her hair has grown a bit.

A bashful expression springs onto Hollyhock’s face. Her hand goes to the gash, her fingers skim along its length.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Is it the cut?” She asks, in a tone I’ve never heard her use before: insecure. I don’t like it.

With no hesitation, I turn her face to pepper kisses across her wound; stitches, blood, and all. I kiss the notch in her ear for good measure.

“I like you, scars and all,” I answer her. She tries to laugh it off and turns away, but her growing smile tells me she likes it. Hollyhock faces me again, and I finally get what Koki’O said to me once.

The assassin looks at me like I’m all the light there is in the world. She has no idea what that means to me. Not yet.

“How’d this happen?” She scoffs.

“Occupational hazard. Don’t worry, the guy that did this is very dead.”

“Good,” I reply, unable to keep the cruelty out of my voice. The assassin doesn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you, for coming back for me,” she says.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I mean, it would’ve been easier.”

“If our situations were reversed, would you have left me?”

“No,” she answers without pause. “That’s not how I meant it, I…” she trails off. Hollyhock licks the top row of her teeth. “What I meant is…forget it.”

I want to probe deeper.

“What is it, Hollyhock?” I put a hand on her shoulder.

“Not everyone takes the time to fix things, especially if it’s on the other side of the world. So thank you, for going out of your way. That’s what I meant.”

She rubs the back of her neck and looks me over again.

“Something tells me this isn’t just a visit for a make-out session, what’s up?”

Of course, Hollyhock can tell something’s wrong.

“I sensed the Necromancer’s magic back in IronHenge. They’re back.”

The assassin holds her chin in thought.

“I seem to recall you obliterating that motherfucker with fire. How could they survive that?”

I shrug, genuinely baffled myself.

“I have no idea, but there’s no mistaking their magic.”

“Magic’s bullshit,” she replies. With a huff, she looks at her AC, which I’m guessing is broken if she was sleeping in this absurd heat. “Aight, what’re we waiting around for?”

Her use of ‘we’ sounds so sure. She walks over to her hidden weapon alcove and opens it up.

“I only wanted to warn you, not drag you to another magical fight.”

Hollyhock starts undressing, and I turn away, even though I want to look.

“We started this fight together, we finish it together,” she postulates.

“You don’t have to put yourself in danger for me.”

“If our situations were reversed, would you let me go alone?” She retorts.

Damn. Wasn’t expecting that to be used against me so quickly.

“I suppose not,” I answer.

“Exactly, so let’s save our energy for the fucker that deserves it.” She comes out dressed, in record time. A large bag is slung over her shoulder. From the way she shifts it around, I can tell it weighs a lot. Hollyhock laughs a bit as she feels the jacket she has on. “I bought this when we went shopping, I remember it now!”

I look it over, and it is the one she got.

“Why are you wearing it now?”

“It’s been treated, and now it’s the best jacket I got.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Always.”

“Then I need proof, something to show that the Necromancer exists, existed, whatever. I have to show the High Council what’s been going on out here.”

Hollyhock goes back to her alcove and grabs a device. It’s a black rectangular box with a tube attached to its front. She pushes a button and the tube moves around a bit.

“What is that?”

“It’s a high-zoom camera. I use it for recon work sometimes.”

I want to point out that it doesn’t look like any camera I’ve ever seen, but I remember that IronHenge is technologically stunted. She puts the camera in the bag where I spy several weapons.

“Here’s the plan: we kill them again. Take some pictures, print ‘em, and yeah.”

“Sounds good.”

“Let’s drive, give us some time to talk.” The way she said that last bit has me a little nervous. She grabs a helmet and leads the way out.

We get in her car and blissful cool air rushes over us as she turns the AC on. There isn’t another soul out in the streets. The clock says it’s 2:53 a.m. We drive quietly for a moment before something dawns on me.

“Did you call me ‘Witch-hazel’ when I restored your memories?”

She chuckles a bit.

“Yeah, sorry, that’s what I call you in my head.”

“That’s just my job, though. That’s like me calling you Assassin-Hollyhock.”

“You don’t call me assassin in your head?” the assassin asks.

Shit.

“Not that often,” I fib.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Sometimes I call you Holly,” I amend. She’s silent after that.

“Who was that bitch with the green arm?” She asks after a pause. I was hoping not to talk about that, but of course, she’d want to know.

“That was my mentor. Mentor Acacia. She taught me everything I know about witchcraft. We have a rule about exposing magic to non-magicians. I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

She interrupts with a wave of her hand.

“You don’t owe me an apology. I get it, she’s your teacher, you couldn’t go against her. Believe me, I know that there are some people you just can’t cross.” She rubs the part of her head where Mentor Acacia grabbed her. “What did she do to me, exactly?”

“It was a spell that wipes one’s memory and blocks them from thinking about what was forgotten.”

“That’s right. I remember you telling me about that, y’all do that to parents, so they forget their kids.”

“She wanted to completely wipe your mind, but I begged her to only take our time together.”

“Thank you, I don’t think I could’ve handled losing all my memories. Or maybe it's better than losing some, thinking I was crazy.”

“…How have you been?” I finally work up the nerve to ask. Knowing she already has blackouts, I feared for her mental state over this. She licks her top row of teeth.

“I’ll tell you but just know I’m not trying to make you feel worse, and I’m not looking to hear sorry, got it?”

I don’t say anything.

“Got it?” She asks again.

I nod, not wanting to promise I won’t feel hurt.

She gathers her thoughts all the same.

“It wasn’t fun…I thought I was losing my mind for a while there. It’s one of my worst fears, that one day I won’t be in control of my actions. I’ll walk around, still breathing and doing shit, but just…nothing going on upstairs.” She taps the side of her head. “Between not knowing what I did the previous weeks, the headaches, and everything else, it was kind of a living nightmare.”

She looks at me and doesn’t like my expression.

“But you made it all better, so thanks again.”

We stop at a red light, despite there being no one else around.

“There’s something else I need to know.”

“Shoot.”

“What happened to you? Not the cut on your face, something else.”

Hollyhock turns to look me in the eyes.

“How do you know about that?”

“I…sensed it. I felt this horrible pain happening to you.”

The assassin isn’t sure how to take that, so she turns away to look at the road. The light turns green, but she doesn’t move the car.

The sound of the engine rumbling, the air conditioning blowing, and nothing else can be heard in this moment of silence. Millions of souls in this city, and I just want to hear what comes out the mouth of the one in front of me.

“It’s dumb, really,” she finally says after an eternity of waiting. “After a mission with Tamara, Kapudal said ‘could use some witch hazel’ for my cut. And I guess the spell activated and I…had a seizure. Felt like my brain was exploding. Tamara and them saw it too.”

I try desperately to harden the pieces of my heart I feel shattering in my chest. Hollyhock suffering without knowing it’s because of me hurts worse than any physical pain I’ve experienced. She starts driving again but slams the brakes.

She has a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tamara didn’t tell me about you. When I asked her if I met someone, she lied and said no. Even though you and her met. Why did she do that?”

I have no answer for that. Hollyhock doesn’t find one, but she grips the wheel harder and spurs the car back into motion.

“Whatever, I’ll deal with that later.”

We finally arrive at the abandoned mall, the assassin grabs her bag of weapons and sucks her teeth at some realization.

“Just remembered I left a bunch of guns here. Ratkiller too,” she answers before I ask. “Gonna pick those up after.” She moves to put on her helmet but stops. “Won’t your Mentor notice you broke the spell on my mind?”

“That would only be if she was actively maintaining it, which she wouldn’t for several reasons. The spell feeds off your brain’s energy, so it’s a closed loop,” I explain.

“Huh, you magicians really think of everything.”

“We try to. Though I guess she’ll deduce what happened when I bring back proof.”

Hollyhock locks her helmet.

“I could shoot her for you if you want,” she offers. It’s tough to tell if she’s joking with her voice muffled like that.

“Thank you, no. I’ll handle it. Hopefully.”

The assassin makes a dissatisfied noise but lets it lie. She produces a weapon from her bag that has a circular ammo cartridge that she loads in.

“Meet ‘Hops’,” she says, “fully automatic shotgun. 30-round drum, all of which are going into that fucker’s chest.”

“Here’s hoping that won’t be necessary.”

She attaches more weapons to her person with straps and holsters. Armed to the teeth, she readjusts her bag to fit on her back and nods at me.

We enter as we did before, except this time there are no wards to cover the smell or control the temperature. The heat and odor don’t make for a pleasant atmosphere, especially after a month’s worth of decay. I lead the way and Hollyhock follows close behind. There are no signs of life or undead around. The bodies we tore through, shot, burned, stabbed, or otherwise destroyed lie still where we left them.

The assassin checks all around us as we advance. I avoid looking at the mutilated faces of the bodies strewn about the floor. We get to the spot where I immolated the Necromancer.

Their charred remains are the same as before.

“Still seems pretty much dead to me,” Hollyhock notes. I have to agree with the observation, I remember staring at this spot for some time after our fight. It’s exactly the same. The assassin kneels and grabs the necklace. It is untouched, not even dirty from the cinders. She stands back up and takes a closer look at the cameo. It’s blood-red and has a moving image of a young child who is laughing. Their violet eyes are astonishing.

“Is this necklace moving from their magic?” She asks. I shake my head.

“I’m not sure. Enchantments like that work like batteries, you can pour in magical energy and leave it to do whatever function it has. It could be anyone’s magic powering it.”

“Hmm, you sure you felt their magic?”

“I won’t forget how it feels for the rest of my life. I’m certain I felt it.”

“This pile of ashes doesn’t seem too magical.”

“Have you noticed anything strange the last few days? Anything that could’ve been Necromancer-related?”

“Nah, I was too busy going insane and getting revenge.”

I don’t care for the ‘insane’ part but the last bit interests me.

“You got revenge?”

“Yeah, found out why the DeadNettles wanted me dead, we killed ‘em all.”

“How did it feel…getting revenge?” I don’t know if I ask because I simply want to learn as much as possible about Hollyhock; or if some part of me deep down holds an invisible grudge. The assassin doesn’t notice my internal conflict and answers with,

“At the time? Didn’t feel much. I didn’t even remember being double-crossed by them. So it was kinda…” She tilts her head. Her expression is hidden behind her helmet. “Anticlimactic. Or non-cathartic, maybe. Is it really revenge if you don’t remember why you want it?”

“And now that you have your memories back?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” She tries to scratch her head but remembers the protective gear she has on. “With context, I guess I feel a certain professional satisfaction. They tried to do me dirty, so getting back at them felt…right.”

“This is very fascinating,” I remark. “Emotional resonance with the self via restored memories. Seems like something there should be a tome on.”

“But, personally, I try not to feel good about killing people. It’s like my uhh, moral code. Or a principle.”

“Why?”

“I just feel it’ll stop me from being a certain kind of person.”

She doesn’t elaborate further on that.

“What’ve you been up to?” She asks, shifting the conversation.

“Researching memory magic, studying magical, learning with my Mentor. Lots of reading, basically.”

“Sounds better than what I was doing.”

It’s comical how easily we fall into such a casual chat. With no regard for our surroundings, we catch up before I remind us both why we’re here.

Hollyhock looks the necklace over again and tucks it away in her jacket.

“I’m sure your pretty dress doesn’t have pockets, so I’ll hold onto it for now.”

It does have pockets, but I allow her this moment of chivalry.

“Let’s check the basement, I remember them lying about having more bodies there,” she proposes. I’ve noticed she keeps saying ‘I remember’. Though I don’t fault her for it, after what she’s been through. It makes my heart ache all the same.

Hollyhock takes the lead in looking for the way downstairs, once we find it she lets me lead again.

The stench is unbearable as we descend. Being a much narrower space, there’s no room for the smell to disperse. My eyes water and Hollyhock coughs behind me.

“Jesus Christ, look at this.” I turn to see what she’s referring to; hundreds of bodies lined up in rows on both sides of the hallway before us. Some are placed on crates, tables, and various other surfaces, very little room is left for walking.

I feel the tremor of the Necromancer’s magic again. Much weaker this time, but definitely their magic. The ribbon in my hair slides down my arm to wrap around my hand, part it extends to make a short blade. Hollyhock notices but doesn’t comment, raising her weapon and switching something on it. The safety if I had to guess.

“I just felt it again, weaker though.”

“You’re on point, I got your six.” I discern the meaning of that when she rotates to cover behind me. We slowly walk through the dead-filled hallway. The eerie silence is only broken by my footsteps and breathes. Professional that she is, Hollyhock walks in sync with me, covering the sound of her movement. I know she’s there, but I can’t see her.

And I never want to let her out of my sight again.

“Take out the threat, get evidence, leave. Simple three-step plan,” Hollyhock’s scratchy voice soothes my nerves. I have to remember she can take care of herself. She’s by no means unacquainted with danger, and by knowing me; magic.

We pass by several rooms probably used for storage and more than likely have more bodies in each one. Just how long has the Necromancer been at this? What would drive someone to such lengths? To collect all these people as tools of war; blurs the line between devotion and obsession. At the end of the hallway, a space opens up to a few other dark corridors. One of them has a faint light in the distance. I head towards it. With each step closer, I brace myself for an all-out fight.

The light I followed comes from a room that has an extremely chilled temperature. At first, I think it’s because of magic, but I notice a generator running. Its output goes through a small opening in the wall. The room itself is refrigerated.

There are scuff marks along the floor, whatever was in here was moved out to make room for the all tables. Each has a dead person on it, in far better condition than the other bodies we’ve seen, generally speaking.

Hollyhock steps into the room and stands beside me.

“Looks like a clinic,” she notes. There are some surgical tools on a table with wheels nearby. “Maybe they used this fridge to fix up bodies?”

A heavy sigh comes from neither one of us but one of the bodies on the table. We both pivot to the source: a body in the left corner of the room. It’s still covered by a sheet, but we see a fogged breath rise into the air.

“You’re…not…wrong,” a horribly croaky voice says. We both creep towards it.

I lift the sheet back as Hollyhock has her gun at the ready. Underneath we find a partially decayed body, and for a moment I think it’s still before another breath rises.

“You…two…are…obsessed…with…me,” the should-be corpse says.

“Just professionally invested, when I kill people I like to make sure they stay dead,” Hollyhock quips. Even seeing the state of the body, she doesn’t relax. Neither do I, the ribbon blade extends, and I lie it over their neck.

“How’s this possible? I killed you.”

“Trade…secret.” They say.

“Good to know being burnt to a crisp didn’t make you any less bitchy.”

“I want answers,” I say more firmly.

“…this…was…a…backup…plan…in…case…I…died. My…soul…was…sent…this…body.”

“This was the best you had in stock? No shinier models?”

“Miscalculated…time…spell…would…take…”

“Dumbass.” Hollyhock relaxes, takes off her helmet, and looks the reanimated body over. “Was using a quadriplegic also a part of your genius plan?” The assassin notes the severely atrophied limbs and torso of this body.

“Forgot…to…find…different…one.”

“You should’ve written it on a sticky note somewhere.”

“Let’s…see…you…do…soul…transference…while…overseeing…an…army.”

I know, objectively, that Hollyhock hates the Necromancer; but the two of them are sniping at each other like old friends. It did get an answer, though; soul transference. I’d be more horrified at the implications if I hadn’t already fought the undead hordes. What’s one more taboo magical process to them?

“If we kill you again, are you gonna pop up again somewhere else? ‘Cuz that sounds like it’s going to be annoying.”

“No…more…magic…to…save…self. I’ll…die…in…a…a…few…minutes.”

Hollyhock doesn’t have anything funny to say to that.

“Soul transference, raising and controlling so many dead; all incredibly hard things to learn and harder to do. What did IronHenge do to you that you went so far?” I ask.

For a while the body is silent. I briefly think they died, but then they say,

“A…favor…to…ask. My…necklace…may…I…see…it?”

“You attacked us and have the nerve to ask a favor?” I admonish. Hollyhock, because she isn’t cruel, puts down her weapon and retrieves the necklace from her pocket. She dangles the chain above the soon-dead magician’s face. Her act of compassion makes me relent, I withdraw my ribbon blade.

The lids slowly open, rather than the unresponsive ones I was expecting, radiant teal eyes stare out. That last use of magic must’ve been to repair their eyes.

“Hyacinth…my…darling…child…taken…too…soon.”

Hollyhock tenses up and my stomach drops.

‘No, they have to be lying. They have to be.’

But what reason would they have to do that? Here at the end of their life, what could they gain from lying?

“I…wish…I…could…have…held…you…once…more.”

One last exhale and the necromancer is no more. Hollyhock puts the necklace back in her pocket.

We stand in silence for a moment, staring at the finally dead magician. So many questions and thoughts vacillate in my head. Seems I’ll have more research to do back in IronHenge.

I turn to look at Hollyhock, wondering what going through her mind.

“Let’s get your evidence,” she says.

We leave and go around collecting everything relevant; Hollyhock takes pictures of all the bodies, both those undisturbed and risen. She also collects all the weapons she left here last time. I take samples of magically altered materials and some remains of the necromancer, storing them in little vials Hollyhock provided.

Our paths cross as she retrieves her knife.

“I’m glad to have this back,” she says while twirling the poisonous knife around. I had my suspicions before, but now with a closer look; that blade is magical in some way. I can detect some traces of magic in it. Now isn’t the time to discuss it, but I’ll ask about it later. For the moment we part again as we continue our tasks.

We reconvene in the main atrium, I watch Hollyhock walk back to me. She’s sweaty and tired, and her arm hurts from carrying her bag of weapons. More and more I think about how I’ve changed her life.

Not necessarily for the better.

But she smiles as she looks at me as if all this is just a minor inconvenience.

“Welp,” she hefts the bag up higher. “Got all my shopping done. You ready?” I close the distance between us and grab a handle.

“It’s heavy,” she warns.

“You’ve done so much for me, this is the least I can do. Let’s carry it together.”

She takes one of the straps off and gives it to me.

“Together.”

Sharing the weight of her loaded weapons bag, we exit the mall. Back out on the empty streets of Oleander City, I take a deep breath. Hollyhock puts the bag in the backseat, and I come to fully comprehend what I’ve done to her life.

🌿💀🌿

Honestly, I’m glad there wasn’t a fight. I’m just now realizing how tired I am; how tired I’ve been this past month. I’m exhausted. Better for me that I didn’t have to run around all night shooting at zombies. And even though I hate their guts, I can understand the rage that drove them to do all this.

“I think it’s time to put an end to this chapter,” I say.

“Huh?” Witch-Hazel says as if coming out of a daze. She looked more than a little shaken by what we learned. Hearing your magic city took someone’s child probably doesn’t sit well.

“You got your evidence, so I think we better make sure no one else stumbles across what went on here.”

“How do you propose we do that?” She asks.

“I’ll handle it. Stay here.”

In the trunk of my car is the standard fire starter kit that all Bay Leaves have. Generally used for much smaller spaces, it’ll work fine with all the material within to burn. I grab containers of kerosene, a drill, small plastic explosives, and some detonators.

I remember the tedious lessons Tamara taught me on how to burn a building down, so it collapses. At the time I thought ‘When am I going to need this?’ and here I am years later in the dead of night, about to set a defunct mall ablaze. I pour kerosene in key places, storefronts with plenty of flammable stuff, and around some pillars. Drilling holes into the most important columns and walls takes a little more thought, but I add maybe a bit more explosive than necessary to be safe.

Making a trail of kerosene is a mundane task, but it gets done. Back outside with Witch-Hazel, we back up to get some distance. I offer the lighter to her.

“Do you want the honors?” I ask.

“This is your city,” she points out.

“Yeah, but you found out about this,” I counter.

“I just wanted your city safe. To keep you safe.”

My heart skips a beat.

‘Damn, what is she doing to me?’

“Together.”

“Together.”

We entwine our hands on the lighter and start a flame. Together we lower it to the fuel line and it comes to life with fire. The small blaze races back into the mall. A minute or so later, I smell the fires burning before I hear them. Soon, fire spreads throughout the building.

I think about all the people inside. Did they have friends and families who noticed their absence? Were they reported missing? Did anyone grieve for them? Were there any funerals with empty caskets because no one could find their bodies?

“Are you sure we should burn this down?” Witch-Hazel asks.

“Everyone in there is dead,” I answer. “I can’t offer them coffins, headstones, or eulogies, but I will bury them. Let them get some form of peace, knowing that their bodies won’t be used in a war.”

“Won’t people dig through the rubble? See the bones?” Hazel’s voice sounds strained.

“The police and fire departments will investigate, but honestly they’re shitty at it. If they bother to search and find human remains, they won’t tell anyone. It’ll look bad for them that this many people somehow died here without them knowing, so they’ll cover it up. Even if this time it was out of their control, they’ll still do what they do best: lie to cover their asses.”

The fire has now made it to the open night air. It raises and reaches for more fuel. They add to the already unbearable heat.

‘I should detonate the charges soon.’

As I turn, Witch-Hazel wraps her arms around my torso. She nestles her face in my chest and lets out a choked sob. Instinctively, my arms embrace her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m…” she struggles to get the next words out. “So sorry, Hollyhock.”

✨🔮✨

As the building burns, the realization of exactly what I’ve done dawned on me: I’ve doomed Hollyhock.

All of this, her losing her memory, her spiraling from it, and this mass grave are secrets she’ll keep for me. As a consequence of loving her, I’ve condemned this woman to have another furtive life from her already clandestine peers. By revealing magic to her, I have brought her into the shadowy, grim parts of my world.

She can’t divulge it to anyone, I’m the only one who she can share this burden with. And I live on the other side of the planet.

I can't stop thinking about all the pain I’ve caused her, all the secrets I’ve given her, all the pain knowing me will cause her, and all the secrets I will give her in the future; because I can’t stop loving Hollyhock.

I will love her despite everything because she deserves that. She will have my love today, tomorrow, and every day until the last star blinks out of existence and even beyond that. All of time and space can’t get in the way of this inferno in my heart.

But I can’t yet find the courage to tell her that. So I cry at the misfortunes that us knowing each other has caused and will cause. Strength has left my body, but as she always does, Hollyhock holds me up.

“I’m…sorry,” is all I can manage to choke out.

“You’re crying over me?” she asks in disbelief. “I’m fine, no need to worry.”

Of course, she doesn’t know why I’m wailing into her shirt.

Sirens blare somewhere in the distance. Hollyhock notices them as well.

“Hazel, I don’t know what’s wrong, but we gotta move, okay?”

I nod, but cannot stop myself from crying. My legs don’t listen to what little sense I have left to move.

Hollyhock scoops me up by my thighs and carries me to the car.

🌿💀🌿

It’s more than a little awkward getting into the driver’s seat with Witch-Hazel wrapped around me as if her life depends on it. But some part of me doesn’t want to let her go, so I deal with it. I don’t know why she’s crying, but we can’t stick around. As incompetent as the police and fire departments are, it doesn’t take a great leap of logic to assume a person with kerosene in her trunk might have something to do with a fire.

Through Witch-Hazel’s curtain of gray hair, I manage to drive like a bat out of hell and detonate the charges. I hear the building start to collapse and somewhat enjoy the fact I’ve buried the Necromancer and everyone else. By the time we’ve gained some distance from the fire, Witch-Hazel has calmed down but won’t share what’s bothering her.

I figure it’s best if we get off the streets and head back home.

✨🔮✨

I wish I hadn’t broken down like that in front of Hollyhock. She gives me space but keeps looking over at me as she prints out the pictures. Once they’re done, she compiles them into a folder and puts it on the table, she takes a moment to organize my samples as well.

I pace back and forth, my mind finally calm enough to think. Hollyhock silently watches me.

“So…now what?” She asks, I note a slightly sad tone in her voice.

“Now, I have to come up with a plan for smooth-talking the High Council. Which is easier said than done. All while avoiding whatever my Mentor has planned.”

“That’s…not what I meant.” I stop to look at Hollyhock. She rubs her right arm, a gesture I’ve never seen her do before. Though she doesn’t say it, I glean her true question. She wants to know if I’m leaving right now.

I should. It would make things easier on my end to get back quickly. But I’m tired. So is Hollyhock.

“I could use some sleep,” I answer her unspoken question. She tries to hide the small smile on her lips.

She strips to her underwear, whereas I stay in my clothes. We climb into her bed and I prime a spell to make the surrounding temperature more amicable. Hollyhock pulls me in for a hug, and I hug her back. She sighs deeply as it gets cooler around us. Her breath tickles my breath.

A comfortable silence falls over us. I think she is asleep for a while, but she softly says,

“I missed you so much, and I didn’t even know who you were. Your smell, your touch, I missed all of it. More than anything I missed we who were; together. Thank you for coming back.”

With that, she falls asleep in my arms. I hold her tighter, and even though I thought I cried enough tonight, another tear streams from my eye. I kiss the top of Hollyhock’s head.

“I promise nothing else will tear us apart again,” I say to her curls, hoping they’ll somehow relay my message. My eyelids get heavier and heavier with each blink and I drift off to sleep.

Ch. 27 End