The House With a Secret Within Its Walls - Florence Zimmerman

Chapter 1 - Trip to New Zebedee

29TH OF SEPTEMBER

"Attention to all witches and warlocks of the USA. Harper and Harpea York, the leaders of the Florida and the Texas coven hereby announce the first Hunting Season. The season shall be one month long, and held annually at a randomly picked time, which shall be October the 1st this year.

The event is meant to replace the mindless, all-year round violent conflict between the magic users. During this month, we all shall quit our jobs, leave our simple lives behind and focus on hunting and hunting only. We shall spare children under the age of 13, but no one else; witches and warlocks who participate shall hunt every shapeshifter and changeling they come across, and sacrifice them on the altar of a better future, one without the barbaric half of the magical community.

When the hunt ends on the 31st of October, no blood shall be spilled until the next Hunting Season starts.

Use the remaining days to identify and locate the shapeshifters in your area. Be prepared, cleanse and do not let the lowlife drag us down."

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"What the actual fuck is happening?!" Mr Edwards, the CEO of the famous fashion company Nefertiti exclaimed when his computer stopped working and instead began to glitch and display some strange, unknown symbols.

"This is the unfunniest prank in human history, it deserves a fucking Guinness World Record," the man grumbled and he turned to the side, calling his secretary's name. "Hey, Emily!"

There was no response, and he quickly realised that he had sent the girl out to grab his lunch. He cussed some more under his breath before getting up and trotting down the stairs to fetch the tech system administrator, who resided three floors beneath him, in a less spacious and not at all luxurious little windowless hole.

At the very least the pay was more than decent and the hole in question has been labelled with the woman's name. "Dawn Chesterfield, PhD", read the golden plate on the door, in a font that was meant to mimic handwriting but came out looking tasteless and awkward.

"Hey, Miss Chesterfield!" the CEO banged on the door. "We've got a problem!"

Approximately two footsteps could be heard, since they were more than enough to trek from the desk to the exit of the tiny office, and Miss Chesterfield appeared on the corridor.

"What seems to be the issue?" she asked the magic question in an exhausted tone, making sure that her disinterested frown would let the boss know that she automatically assumed he just opened too many tabs at once or can't turn off the caps lock.

"It's very serious, come, see for yourself!" Mr Edwards beckoned with an impatient wave of his hand, and without even waiting for a response he began to hurry back upstairs to his own sanctuary.

Miss Chesterfield rolled her tired eyes and dragged herself after her boss, trying not to fall asleep in the process, and mentally cursing the computer for giving her extra work for the day.

Once they arrived at the man's office, he gestured towards the screen with an almost theatrical motion. Miss Chesterfield frowned once again, but this time it was an honest, concerned frown, not just mockery. She leaned closer to the computer, her eyes following the lines of the uninterpretable symbols as if she were reading them.

Mr Edwards almost looked impressed. Programmers are truly a different breed, he probably thought, these coding languages are getting more complicated by the day, yet they keep up all the time.

He was almost — almost — considering giving the woman a raise, when the system manager stepped away from the desk. Her face suddenly seemed very pale, almost greenish. Was she sick?