Hallow's: Witch's Brew

Nine

Issues ft. Skyler Acord- Since I Lost You

There is a bright red nineteen sixty-nine Mustang parked in the driveway of the house Spencer gave me the address to and I know I've got the right place. The place looks like hell. There is no grass. No plants. There's a muddy walkway that leads from the driveway to the front door. Cobwebs and dead vines are covering the porch. I knock on the door feeling completely out of place. I look around to see there's no one here and I don't mean they're all gone for the day. The houses look abandoned. 

"Just a second," he calls from inside. When he rips open the door all he's wearing is a pair of gray sweatpants that cling to his hips. "What the fuck do you want?" he asked annoyed. "Leave," 

"I brought food and the paperwork to start the unbinding. We need to go through them so we're both prepared," I hold up my reusable grocery bag. His nose flares the way it always has when he looks at me. He steps back and lets me in. 

The inside of his home is no better than the outside. The coffee table is covered in take-out containers and tea cans. There are dirty clothes all over the place. There's a recliner next to the coffee table and a huge TV. That's all there is for furniture here. I want to defend him but this is very much Noah. 

"The dining room is this way," he says and reaches for a black t-shirt in a laundry basket. I follow him. This part of the house is a lot cleaner. I mean a lot. The carpet back there is caked in dirt. I jump when a cat rushes out of one of the rooms. "Don't mind her. That's Hailey," 

I set my bag on the high dining table. He turns the lights on. I lift my hand trying my spells for the first time in a while. The dust clears off the top and I pull a chair out to take a seat. I take out the drinks first and set them between us. I hand him his food and start unwrapping mine. I watch as he silently says a prayer. Something he still does from his time in the convent. 

"How is sister Angela?" I ask. He looks up at me and clears his throat. 

"You remember Sister Angela?" he asks. 

"Why wouldn't I?" I ask popping a fry in my mouth. 

"She's good. She had surgery to replace her hip a couple of months ago," 

"Oh, is she getting physical therapy?" 

"Yeah, it's kind of pricey," he nods. 

"Yeah, I know. I broke my clavicle when I was twenty-two. It was the fucking worst," 

"What happened?" he asks. 

"Uh, I was in Iran. The town we were in was getting bombed and the daughter of the family I was staying in got caught in the middle of a fight. I ran out to get her out of the way and I was hit by a falling chimney," 

"What the fuck were you doing in Iran?" he asks. 

"Evacuating the people. I'm part of the Fringe insurgency for witches. Those of us who can't help magically, do the footwork. They paid for college. I didn't have a lot when I left and Ben was struggling," 

"I didn't know that," he says taking a drink from his foam cup. 

"You were at Standford at the time?" I change the subject. 

"Yeah," he watches me a little more intently. "How did you know that?" 

"My brothers. We never stopped talking," 

"And what? You kept tabs on me?" 

"No, but they went to school with you and would bring you up all the time," I sigh. I close my pastrami sandwich container and put it back in the bag. It was stupid of me to even try to have a conversation with this asshole. I take the paperwork out of my bag and place it on the table.