Bullets & Spells

''Better Luck Next Time''

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'Jesus fucking Christ!' I can't believe I just asked Witch-Hazel all that. I hadn't thought about that shit in years and promised myself I would never say it aloud.

'I drink one magic potion and suddenly I'm spilling my guts to her. Why don't I just give her my diary and psych eval?

I probably should get a psychological evaluation.

'Nah, who has time for that?'

I have the ac running in the car but my face is hot from embarrassment. I desperately try to keep what little cool I have left. Witch-Hazel, thankfully, doesn't bring it up. Whether it's because she wants to respect my privacy or because we have something more important to do; either way I'm grateful to her.

One of the cleaning crews for the apparent massacre I created returned the car back to my place. It explains why I was so sweaty when I woke up, I must've walked for miles in this heat. I couldn't snap on a cooler day?

'Focus Hollyhock! We're not going to think about your deteriorating mental health, we're trying to catch an asshole who's reanimating dead kids. All that other shit is on the back burner.'

I turn a corner.

"If you ever want to talk about it, we can," Witch-Hazel offers. "I can't give any advice, but I can listen." She runs the back of her neck.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about it. Ever," I counter. It came out harsher than I intended, so I follow up with, "but thank you, for caring enough to offer."

My face gets warmer.

We sit in silence for the rest of our drive. I head down the street of our destination. The apartment buildings around are relatively new, but they aren't as populated as they should be. Hardly anyone is out and about here, all because of one building.

"I remember the city was hyping this area up," I tell her. "Supposedta be a great economic boom. Office buildings one side of the street, on the other side: cozy apartments. No need for long commutes, keep your paychecks close to home," I explain further. "They were gonna open a supermarket, and other stuff to cut down on traveling. A city scum's wet dream, basically." I pull into a largely empty parking lot.

"It was a bit cart before the horse, if y'know what I mean."

"Hmmm, in IronHenge we say "don't count your phoenixes until they're reborn" but it's the same principle."

"....right. So anyway, one company set up shop in one of these buildings. I don't know what they did but they didn't do it well, one of the employees came and shot the place up. Twelve died, the business shut down, other businesses pulled away, and rent around here plummeted."

"Isn't that good?"

"It is, but the jobs around here evaporated, defeating the whole purpose of the place. Now it's practically a ghost town."

We exit the car out into the humid heat of the afternoon. Across the street is the building that caused all this: Chrysanthemum Offices. It's still new and shiny on the outside, but the distinct lack of activity around it raises flags.

"Seems a good a spot as any to check first. You sure you felt it around here?"

"Definitely, now that I'm closer I can sense their magic a bit," Witch-Hazel explains.

"Then let's go floor by floor-"

"Hand over your wallets!" I'm interrupted by a rough-looking man. His face is skinny, and his clothes are way too big for him. He has a rusty half scissor pointed at me, an unsteady hand holds it. His eyes anxiously shift between us quickly.