One might think that being dragged into a police station and shoved inside an interrogation room would be a low point in one’s day… or life in general. The fact that they would treat me like a suspect with little to no information on me and some might even claim they were skipping a few legal actions that were making this illegal.

The little details like not reading me my rights, letting me call for a lawyer, or even telling me what I was being charged with.

Most people would find that to be a rather glaring issue, but not me. After all things get complicated when you add the supernatural into the mix and the most important detail that people tend to forget?

It was the job of the police to keep people from killing you. It was a very important detail to keep track of when you had people trying to kill you. The second important detail was that they liked asking questions and they would let you know things.

They might want answers that I don’t have… but at bare minimum I could figure out exactly where I was and just how much the local police force knew about the supernatural elements… and how much danger I was in.

‘You know… I never really had to worry about cops until after I got involved with the supernatural.’ I thought to myself ‘Well I get normal cops who don’t know… or do cities have cops who have run into the supernatural nonsense?’

My fingers tapped the table as the car ride had rather been interesting. The cops came running preparing to capture somebody who was thought to be dangerous and then watching a vehicle hit a magical invisible for all to see threw them for a loop.

They knew something was going on so it was just a question of how ‘supernaturally aware’ the police were… or if a pair of black suit government goons had a special letter for which ‘file’ this report was going into.

That or the old basic ‘We do not really want to think about it’ stick as the bottom of the barrel cops are sent in while everyone else tries to forget about what had been going on. Sometimes people preferred ignorance over wandering if what knocked over their trashcan was a racoon or some flesh eating monster.

I could hear the sound of footsteps outside as I had to remind myself “New Town. New Folks. No criminal record. They don’t know you so keep the baggage to a minimum.”

All I had to do was wait for them to pull my records. Have them ask ‘How did I get to (insert location)’ before I had to make up a plausible excuse. Then it was simply buying airplane tickets and figuring out how to get rid of these magical tattoo chains.

‘Let them do the talking.’ I told myself ‘They have an idea. It's your job to make it plausible without shooting yourself in the foot.’

The door cracked open as I nearly smiled until I took one look at the cops. They did not look like ‘police officers’ you would see on TV or something. No, these two cops looked like they belonged more to the Gestapo than underpaid police officers did little to ease my fears… especially when an elder man who looked a few chuckles away from the grave walked into the room and sat across from me.

Last really old person who gave a creepy vibe made me lose an entire week. So call me paranoid if the fact this old man seemed to have all of his marbles and the respect/fear of the Gestapo guards caused me to place my hands underneath the table.

It was bolted to the floor of course, but it never hurt to duck underneath something hard and sturdy when you were prepared to do something stupid.

The old man was wearing a black suit that might look home on a vampire as he placed a brief case onto the table before staring at me. He looked ancient, but not ‘I am an old man’ but the type of sharp mind that made you think he dabbled in necromancy to reanimate his own corpse or something.

“I want my lawyer.” were the first words that came out of my mouth.

“Your lawyer has already come to see you.” The Gestapo cop on the right spoke “He has come to speak to you about your case.”

These people are not cops. Cops do not wait until your lawyer who you didn’t call or know before they interrogated you. In fact most of them tended to want answers like ‘What in the world was that?’ or the favorite ‘Did you have something to do with this?’

Don’t blame me for the bad stereotypes. Blame the supernatural for making things a lot worse/complicated as it is hard to file ‘John got his face ripped off by a werewolf’ in official normal/mundane office reports.

“I would like some privacy to speak with my client.” The old man replied having ignored my request

The Gestapo cops left the room despite my protest as the old man opened up his briefcase pulling out a few pieces of paper. Honestly I was expecting some semblance to the legal process, but maybe that only applied in America… or when obvious supernatural nonsense didn’t happen in front of everyone to see.

Sort of a coin toss between the two.

“Do you know why you have been brought here?” The old man asked as he shut the briefcase

If I was foolish I would have said ‘Because you want something from me and the obvious flaunting of the legal system should be the least of my concerns right now’ which while true… didn’t exactly give me any information.

“This is where you inform me on what is going to happen” I slowly replied letting the fear seep into my voice “Or else... something bad is going to happen to me?”

Some people would try to put on a brave face and stand defiant towards their opponents… those people generally had backplans, safety nets, or were too stupid to relaize how bad things could get. I on the other hand knew just how fragile human beings could be.

More importantly I knew that sometimes letting your opponent think he has the advantage over you helps when you need to catch them off guard.

Case in point was the smug grin the creepy old man wore as he didn’t bother to pay attention to what my hands were doing underneath the table. If things went south… Catching him off guard was going to be my best shot.

After all there was clearly something off about him. Not the combed back white hear or that damn smirk on his face as he straightened up his papers before staring at me like he caught me trying (and failing) to steal a cookie from a cookie jar.

You do not let two large bodyguards leave the room when there are no cameras to make sure nothing bad happens to the ‘lawyer’ and their prisoner. There should have been a one way mirror instead of four walls… but most of all the lawyer shouldn’t remind me of a lich with skin covering his bones.

Like the late crypt keeper the old man spoke with a mocking tone “It is because Agatha Willow wanted you here…” He glanced at me for a few moments as if letting it sink in “And considering you are a male with those chains around your wrist… that makes you the one holding her will or you know where her daughters will pick up their inheritance.”

Just being reminded about it caused my hands to rub my wrists more in irritation of the chains binding me to this place. Still I got one detail that I needed as apparently they were after whatever this ‘inheritance’ is.

‘Supernatural elements of this place know about the girls.’ I thought to myself ‘Yet they don’t know about there being four females and one male. So the ghost witch might not be working with them… small mercies.’

Still this didn’t seem too different than what I had been used to dealing with these past few years. Somebody within the supernatural community died and now everybody else wanted to claim the object for themselves.

Only problem was that legally someone else owned… and they didn’t care. Either they found a legal means through blackmail and threats of violence. That or they just killed whoever next was in line until they got to legally own it… or just out right steal it.

“Look I have no idea what you are talking about…” Which was the truth “I just took the wrong turn and got stuck here.”

It was at this moment he placed a stack of papers in front of me.

This should have been the part where I complained… shouted… said a snappy comeback or something, but the words on the paper made my blood run cold as I tried to ignore it. The old man was pulling my chain and trying to trick me as it would be child’s play to make up some false information and pretend it was real.

“It was fine work really.” The old man replied “Erasing evidence that you existed, removing all records so that anyone who might have known you couldn’t find you. The Witch of the Hill keeps her daughters hidden and the one they only need to contact the one person when they get back… is also hidden from all records.”

He had to be lying, but a part of me didn’t have any reason for why he would be lying about this. If anything they should have been lording over knowing who I was and where to apply their less than subtle threats.

His fingers drummed against the briefcase “No ID, no papers, no work history or record that you even existed. All of this done so that you would be hidden away until they returned when the heat died down… or when they are called back to this place.”

I ignored his grandiose speech as he dronned on. My concern wasn’t the four girls who booked it out of town… no it was the fact that they should have found something about me by now.

They had my fingerprints, my face, probably bits of my DNA to run through some government machines or something now that the Supernatural folks bumped up my spot in list of priorities. I was expecting them to pull out my life history and ask the big ‘damning question’ instead of… finding nothing at all.

‘I have spent a lot of time being as evasive about who I was… who I am… and now they claim they have nothing on me!’ I practically snarled in the back of my mind ‘If this was The Spire then Akara or worse… Nyte would already be making bargains and threats. If this was back home then they would be able to find me with ease!’

The old man continued droning on about making some sort of grandiose speech or something about the girls. Honestly I had no idea who they were and I didn’t care.

“I’m pretty sure they left and are not planning on returning.” I informed the old man to his disbelief “Seriously why come back here at all! Right now you make it sound as if the entire town is getting ready to string them up.”

He blinked apparently caught off guard “You seriously can’t believe that.”

I looked at him straight in the eyes as I could feel my own anger starting to boil “I don’t even want to be here! Heck if I were them I’d be buying plane tickets and leaving the country!”

Why go back to the place with a ghostly murder witch and what might possibly be the local witch hunter with a very large pull on the local police force. Heck people had fled from their homes for less sane reasons!

To my own surprise he glared at me and directed my attention to the other stacks of papers that I had apparently failed to notice. The ones that didn’t involve me, but the four mystery girls who managed to escape this city.

If I needed any proof to confirm that this man was in the supernatural part of this place as the papers were of the other girls… only most of the information was missing.

Not blacked out or redacted, but more like… entire sections of the papers had been left blank as ink slowly appeared on the page filling in the details as if by… magic. The type of tricks you’d see low grade magicians in Kornea use to trick new residents as a grand display of ‘magic’ to them.

He thought I didn’t know about magic which was both useful… and kind of insulting.

Useful because it allowed me to slip out a pen from my jacket sleeves to start doodling on the bottom of the table. Insulting because it meant he didn’t recognize a single object the police had taken from me.

“Though I do expect the information on one of those sheets to change by the end of tonight.” He informed me opening up his briefcase again “Alaeros will have his eyes set on one of them for their trial and they are far too inexperienced to survive one set by him especially... considering the circumstances.”

I nodded my head as Alaeros was a name I was going to have to write down. Possibly a magical mob boss or something who got annoyed that Agatha Willow just ‘magic’ up a bunch of daughters possibly cheating him out of her will or something.

So without anything else I decided to ask a stupid question “What exactly did these girls do to make you send a hit man after them?”

The creepy old man stared at me in surprise before letting out a soft chuckle “Kill them? Oh trust me when I say that we would all be better off if they were all dead… but Alaeros has different priorities. Others would fault him for it… but while annoying at it maybe I cannot say that I would do differently in his place.”

The old man looked into his briefcase as a hint of sorrow filled his voice “The witch had cut him deep… and while childish it maybe, it is the temptation to make the pain he suffered not a complete loss… and to give it meaning now that fate has dangled a small string of hope right in front of his nose...”

The seconds dragged on as… I had no freaking idea what he was talking about. The doodle was nearly complete, but it was just a matter of buying more time and trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

The problem was that the old man started staring at me as if noticing that I still didn’t get his cryptic word play which made it harder to get a read on him.

Once the doodle was complete I slipped the pen back into my sleeve before trying to figure out what exactly was going on. The girls claimed that they had been victims of the old witch’s curse… but was it more likely that they were only pretending in an attempt to have me help them escape.

‘But if that is the reason then why ditch me?’ I couldn’t help, but think ‘They could have ditched me with the eldritch ghost witch was threatening me. If ditching me was always the plan then why didn’t the police simply keep chasing after them with cars and helicopters or something?’

Heck the only reason why the police cars seemed to have been thrown off the trail was due to the magical exploding Van when it rammed the invisible city limits wall… which was about as subtle as a blow horn to the ear.

The old man’s fingers drummed on the table as I took a look at the other five stacks of paper that had been placed before me. Four of the five stacks of paper had pictures of each one of the girls including a few details, and possible personal history for the girls who supposedly had not existed until today.

‘Yet the motel rooms vanished overnight.’ A paranoid whisper of doubt echoed in the back of my mind ‘The house had changed over night. The bodies were missing… the girls showed trouble trying to remember who they were. One girl claimed to be someone else until…’

I focused on the papers as flesh and mind alterations were possible. Twisting of the flesh to make new faces, bodies, and identities was plausible. Subtle alterations to the mind (which usually broke the Big Seven) could be done with proper time, planning… and sometimes easier if you didn’t care about side effects or memory loss affecting the patient/victim.

I tried to think about it logically as maybe it was possible to write with ‘invisible ink’ and stuff the papers in a government building to forge identities for these girls so that the ‘records of their identities’ would appear after the deed had been done?

Yet if that was the case then what was wrong with unlucky number five?

This one had the picture, but the words were slowly being erased as if in reverse as what few details in it were suddenly being murdered in its crib before life could take shape, grow, and live.

Missing Number Five.

The Heir who got shot in the head before I was picked to be their replacement.

I wanted to pretend that it didn’t matter, but my paranoia was kicking in… especially since I lacked any means to protect myself if they thought ‘shooting the loose end’ would have been a good idea.

‘Think logically. Find the answer.’ my thoughts focused on my own missing information ‘But most of all make sure they don’t kill you just to be safe.’

“So how about we skip to the main issue here.” The old man spoke snapping me back to reality “The witch probably lied and whatever she promised you will not hold up when her heirs come to claim what they desire.”

‘What I currently desire is a way out of here.’ I bitterly thought to myself ‘So unless that involves plane tickets it isn’t worth much. I already am trying to run away with something far more valuable than whatever babble or trinket you are after.’

The fact I didn’t respond right away seemed to annoy him “If it was something as juvenile as one of their hands in marriage… then I can assure you that the ‘honeymoon’ will be a short and deadly one as Heirs of the Hill do not share.”

“Marriage?” I snapped in confusion “What in the world are you talking about? I don’t even know their real names! Why the heck would I want to marry one of them?”

He stared at me in confusion as if not wanting to marry them was odd “Really? I mean if you give it some time a few memories will try and fill in your gaps…”

It was stupid, but anger surged through my veins as I realized what they were doing. They were probably trying to recreate the witch’s curse to try and get a lead on these girls and were using me as a guinea pig.

They were breaking the Second Law for a freaking clue!

My hands slammed hard on the table as I screamed out in anger “My name is Dais! I came from Kornea with a K, or maybe you are one of those people who prefer Korona or Lyonesse?”

Everybody had a name for the city of the lost.

“There isn’t anything the old lady left me besides these things” I motioned to my wrist “And if you remove them I will gladly leave this screwed up place right away!”

“Without even a second thought about what has been offered?” The old man spoke, not believing a word I was saying.

The fact he didn’t even react to the names I gave or reference to The Spire told me just how little this lawyer actually knew of the supernatural world. They thought that someone who didn’t even know the basics would have anything to offer to me?

It was at this point that I couldn’t help, but feel the urge to set off the magical trap I had placed upon the table just to prove a point “I don’t care! I have better places to be! Just replace my tires, remove these chains on my wrist, and give me back my stuff so that I can go back to…”

I stopped myself from saying where I wanted to go just in case anyone who I had been running from wanted to double check where I might be going…

That and I didn’t feel anything off about my mind. No false memories, no twisting thoughts or… anything. Fear started to slowly creep into my stomach as staying within this cursed city sounded worse with each growing second.

I hated trying to play stupid “I mean this is the USA and not England or Norway right?” I chuckled nervously as I glanced at the door behind him “If not then I’d like to get on the first airplane off this continent.”

The old man stared at me in growing confusion as apparently he didn’t believe that I was being completely serious about wanting to leave. If anything this ‘curse’ just showed that I should add this city to the list of places I should never return to!

Leaving by car would be good, but the growing impression that simply running away by foot sounded just as appealing the moment the magical nonsense chains were removed from my wrists!

“My name is Avarus Kazlut.” The name was spoken with a hint of a smirk and smugness as he watched my eyes for any hint of recognition.

The name didn’t ring any bells nor did I really care about who the man was since he obviously couldn’t help me. Maybe it was a threat or possibly some title marking his status or something… but the lack of recognition seemed to be the part that finally made him realize just how little I knew.

“You…” He paused looking a little bit hurt that I had no idea who he really was “You really have no idea on what’s going on do you?”

I felt like face palming as it should have been obvious considering how I didn’t even seem to know who anyone he had been talking about or referring to was.

“I have no freaking idea on what is going on.” I replied in full honesty “Does that mean I can go?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” The old man spoke annoyed that I said such a thing “It just means we have to hold you for ‘questioning’ until we figure out the right question to ask.”

This was where someone in my position probably should have complained, but that would be a waste of my breath as it was obvious he wasn’t going to listen to me. He simply rose up and walked out the door before the very audible sound of him or his Gestapo thugs locking the door behind him.

They were leaving me in a locked empty room to rethink my opinion until they figured out exactly what they wanted to ask me even if this entire mess was probably illegal. Still they didn’t ask about the mafia… the van exploding… or if there were any other survivors besides the ‘five’ girls they were hunting.

I rubbed my aching head and muttered “Okay let's sort out the facts.”

Fact number 1? They had no idea of Kornea so he didn’t exactly have any leverage to pull on. Fact number 2? They didn’t question the exploding Van and seemed dead focused on finding the girls… they didn’t even bother asking if anyone else survived the night the crazy old lady cursed us...

Which really didn’t bold well since good people would ask about other survivors.

They simply didn’t care.

Still it would only be a matter of time before he started fielding the right questions… or started messing with things that were best left alone. They still had all of my belongings and all it took was one carless idiot to mess with something they really shouldn’t be touching.

With that last horrifying thought in the back of my mind it was time to be prepared for the next train wreck to arrive.

‘Bright side?’ I thought to myself as I took off my jacket ‘They didn’t bother trying to search me for any hidden items.’

It was also the main reason why I didn’t try escaping right away. The problem with being a magician was needing prep work and timing. Oh sure I could have tried escaping at that moment, but there was still a room full of fully armed police officers with guns who could shoot me outside that door.

No… I needed time to prepare for a proper escape.

Opening up all of the hidden pockets and pouches I had. It was simply a matter of trying to figure out how many supplies I had on me… and what I could do without possibly getting myself killed. Even if I had a few more supernatural toys than they had been preparing for… I still wasn’t bullet proof.

Thankfully my prior paranoia packing supplies had been done to this jacket as I had managed to pull out a small pen with a rather unique source of ink, and two trusty notepads out before deciding to get to work.

A magician’s work is never done after all.

Time had slowly continued to tick by without the Gostupo guards and the creepy old man marching back into the room. Maybe they actually forgot about me and the regular cops would let me free… or maybe I was being too optimistic.

Either way more time meant more prep work for me to apply my magic tricks.

Magic was a tricky thing… my magic not the magical witchy nonsense brand. It was flexible, yet inflexible… it had rules, but it also gave some room for error to help one improve or find ways to get around problems.

If I had to describe it then it would be a mixture of Art and Programming. An odd combination for sure, but there was a bit of logic behind the madness… or people before me working on the craft forced a semblance of logic into the madness.

You could make a burst of flames from a run or somehow twist the laws of how gravity worked with a pair of sticky notes. You could leave a pair of ink drawn markings on your boots that when pressed together could slow your descent from breaking your legs to a soft landing… while having no idea how the whole ‘physics’ worked.

Though if you messed up you might be shooting straight up, not slowing your descent fast enough… or accidentally causing a magical backlash that cost your legs.

‘It's why people made staves and flying brooms.’ I joked in the back of my mind as I slapped the seals onto the bottom of my shoes ‘To keep a good few feet away from their faces when they had to slap together something instead of making something proper within a safe workshop or lab.’

Then again that was half the trick of being a magician… finding ways to hide a few tricks up your sleeves (sometimes literally) and using a bit of smoke and mirrors to hide the real magic in the art.

They thought they had disarmed me leaving me helpless. Now I continued to pretend I was helpless as I bobby trapped the table, chairs, and added a few extra bits of protection to my clothing that should (hopefully) keep me intact if they open fire on me.

I just needed to slip out of the police station if things went downhill and use some old tricks to slip into an airport and onto the first airplane leaving this city.

‘Same rules like last time.’ I thought to myself ‘Pretend to be a whole lot less dangerous… then a whole lot more. Keep throwing down as many tricks you have up your sleeves while you try to survive their tricks.’

The problem was that I was still having to trust what I slapped on my shoes to keep me from breaking my own legs when I jumped out the window. I didn’t like those odds especially when people started trying to shoot me but...

But sometimes low odds were better than no odds at all.

I could hear footsteps outside the hallway causing myself to slip the notebook back into my pocket and try my best to hide a sheet of paper and my trusted pen inside my sleeve.

Maybe I could pretend to doodle and they might not realize what I’m actually doing? They didn’t recognize Korena so maybe they don’t know about my little ‘art tricks’ just like the girls didn’t recognize half the stuff I warned them about?

Just a few bits of paper, ink, and a small collection of minor magical tricks to keep me alive. If I survived this mess... I was going to find some way to secretly conceal a firearm on me… or some sort of sturdy weapon.

Sadly for me none of the insurance I had prepared was going to save me right now. My self-appointed ‘lawyer’ came back into the room with three new guests. The first was a very annoyed cop who looked at me with utter disdain as if I had personally offended him by simply existing.

The second was a younger woman roughly around her twenties? She was wearing black jeans, a black jacket, one red shirt… but I marked her as one of the mystical members due to the black witch’s hat on her side and the fact she was holding a wooden magical looking staff in one hand and a silver bracelet around her left hand.

The silver bracelet had some sort of glowing blue magical looking lettering inscribed along the side and the slightly unnaturally blue glow around it was the biggest sign that this was an obviously magical item which either played by different rules I was used to or the girl read too many fantasy genre books.

The staff wasn’t any better as the long wooden staff with that slightly gnarled appearance with branches tangling into each other to make a small spot at the top to hold something… put I’d expect it to be used more for cosplay than for someone to actually use it in a fight.

I had seen magicians use staves, but it was always with the understanding that sometimes (far more than I’d like) you would need to swing it at something to prevent something nasty from trying to rip your face off… not try to win a cosplay contest.

If the third guest hadn’t been there I actually would have tried escaping the room.

The moment I saw her I knew the odds weren’t in my favor. Heck I wasn’t even sure if I had a feasible plan to flee as the murderous eldritch ghost witch thing who nearly towered over the others had to bend slightly to prevent her head from hitting the ceiling.

The same murderous eldritch ghost witch who survived being shot in the head and ran over by a car was standing inside this very small room with me.

One look into the hallway revealed that some people who didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong and others who stared at the third guest in utter dread, while trying very hard not to stare lest she notice their attention.

It was akin to noticing a bear outside your house and praying that it wasn’t going to break down your door. If you ignored it you were probably safe as it stole your garbage… probably being the key word here.

The door slowly shut behind them as the false lawyer adjusted his tie “Is this the one?”

“Yes.” The Stitch Witch replied her voice sounding like a harsh echoing whisper “He was the one who shot me.”

‘And there goes my shot at being written off as a luckless fool’ I bitterly thought to myself

The cop stared at me in disbelief as the woman tried to avert her gaze. The lawyer simply nodded as he wrote it down before clearing his throat “How do you wish to proceed Ms…”

The words in his throat died as the Stitch Witch held up her index finger. I couldn’t help, but stare at the long boney limb… it looked human or more human than what I was used to dealing with, yet everyone else was petrified as if she had pulled out a grenade or something.

“He doesn’t know my name and I wish for him to ask me for it when he wants something from me instead of dealing with these more… troubling times.” She spoke much to the confusion of the others “I did promise I would not kill you and sadly you have gotten yourself in a lot of trouble… Magician.”

There was almost a hint of mischief in those last words yet I was still a bit terrified as I was still trying to figure out what I was dealing with. Everyone else seemed more surprised that I could notice her without her name.

As if not knowing her name wouldn’t somehow make it impossible to notice the large eldritch creature that kept her gaze focused solely on me! Seriously how could I not notice her considering how her very presence seemed to fill up the room as her constant focus reminded me of one of those lions you see in the zoo…

Only without any gates, metal bars, or deep pits to keep the very large and hungry lion that was currently licking its lips as it stared at you.

“I did apologize for shooting you.” I quickly replied as she continued to stare at me “Though… the car… that wasn’t my fault, but in my defense you did try to strangle me.”

There was a slight grunt of annoyance making it clear she didn’t agree with that assessment. Then again I wasn’t the one who hit her with the car since it was ‘knife girl’ who had decided to hit her the first time… and the witch’s own fault for being run over a second time.

“The Trial is happening soon so I decided to pull some strings as per our… agreement.” She spoke placing a hand on the police officer who froze in fear.

It showed you just how dangerous she was that everyone else tried (and failed) to not stare at the police officer who did his best to pretend that her hand wasn’t sinking into his shoulder. That already marked her as the most dangerous threat if everyone else was more afraid of her as an ally then me as a possible threat.

So now I couldn’t even bluff about being ‘even more dangerous than they could possibly imagine’ because they certainly feared her a heck of a lot more than possible threat they might think I might be.

A hint of amusement seeped into her voice “This Council Member shall speak on behalf of the city. A pact… one agreeing to you following the law to the best of your ability, in exchange for the city not murdering you.”

They stared at the Stitch Witch in disbelief while I… it felt like I was walking into a trap, because this sounded way too good to be true… while also horrifying. They weren’t looking just for the Witch Heirs… but it was now confirmed that they planned to kill them and I was locked in a building full of police officers who would shoot me dead unless I went through with their deal.

I ran to the police so that I wouldn’t be surrounded by people who wanted to shoot me dead! Now I was being told that apparently they had a good reason to try and kill me now!

“And what’s the catch?” I asked despite knowing that I couldn’t refuse it

They stared at me seemingly confused by my reaction before the monster chuckled “Oh just a minor favor for one day. You seemed so keen on it the night you made the Pact with me… that I figured it would be a minor detail.”

The rude chuckle from the police officer made it clear that this ‘minor detail’ was going to be a lot more dangerous than she was leading me to believe… or a lot more messed up than I could imagine right now.

She cleared her throat while tightening her grip on the police officer who flinched “We can talk about it after you agree to the Pact with the Council Representative Member before you.”

Sighing in defeat I held out my hand as the cop stared at it in disbelief… before smiling as he took the limb and grabbed it. My hand began to hurt as the man wasn’t holding it tightly in an attempt to intimidate me, but to prevent me from letting go as he pulled out a book from his pocket.

He spoke with a hint of sadistic glee as he said “For being the Witch of the Hill’s heir you and all extended family members are sentenced to…”

There was a small pop as his grip grew tighter for a moment… before he suddenly fell over. The book in his hand burning and the lawyer’s phone ringing as the Stitch Witch pulled off one of those old cartoonish witch cackles that rattled your bones as a child.

Only this time there was a much more sinister mocking vibe that echoed down your bones as you realize that somebody made a horrible mistake. Though to my surprise for once… it was the other party that had made the horrific mistake.

“Did he seriously try and cheat a Pact!” I shouted in sheer disbelief

The others stared at the dead stiff in disbelief as I glanced at the witch in question who seemed to be whipping away the (non-existent) tears from her eye as everyone else was nearly freaking out.

“What just happened?” The woman spoke in horror

She pressed her back against the wall as if expecting the body to suddenly explode or reanimate into a zombie. The lawyer rubbed his neck looking a bit uneasy as the sheer almost psychotic glee the dead cop wore thinking he could cheat a Pact.

A Pact of all things!

The lawyer frowned “I believe this is for you…”

The Stitch Witch took the phone as the cop was dead… my own eyes focused on the burning book now reduced to a pile of ash.

“What happened?” The woman repeated in mild horror.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed “He literally tried breaking a Pact the mere second after we shook hands.”

The other too looked at me in disbelief as the Stitch Witch just hummed one of those twisted nursery rhymes as I rubbed my sour hand. The fact that this threw them for a loop might be useful if I could simply repeat the same pact before they caught on… or would that not work?

Shaking my head I continued to explain “You think eldritch beings care about whatever fancy legal loopholes or wording of a contract you try to trick them with! Guess what? They don’t. At best they only care about the spirit of the Pact… at worst they take offense at you trying to cheat it.”

I huffed in irration as I saw two more of the hand puppet creatures moving across the floor acting like a small film crew… probably recording the world fastest Pact Rebound that would probably become a world record.

“Seriously you should be happy that the backlash only affected him rather than…” I paused as they were now staring at me in mild horror “Instead of everyone who might have gone along with his crazy plan...”

I let the words hang as I wasn’t sure if they were bound by the Pact and its rebound… or if they might simply opt for calling the cops outside the door to shoot me.

“Yes your insurance plan is gone.” The Stitch Witch spoke out loud causing everyone’s attention to focus on her “He made the pact. It just didn’t work out in your favor just like I told you.”

She lifted up her robes a little as dozens of the little hand puppet creatures crawled out from underneath grabbing the dead body and pulling underneath the folds of her robes.

The fact that the entire human body disappeared so easily meant there was something extra supernatural about those robes… and an extra level of horror since there were no dead bodies found at the house. It was never a good sign when the supernatural collected dead bodies.

I knew that from personal experience.

None of the others stopped her as the woman with the staff just kept glancing back at the Stitch With and then me. The lawyer on the other hand simply pulled out a plastic bag and began to sweep the ashes of the book into it.

As if someone preserving the ashes of a book was more important than asking what the Stitch Witch was going to be doing with the dead body! I don’t know what rules this town ran by, but a lot of people tended to ask questions when three people went in a room and only two people left.

The Stitch Witch chuckled as she spoke deeply into the cell phone “Ban the use of Illnaria... I chose him because he was the one who decided to make a very large shipment legal and he offended me. If you do not accept my terms then I shall not bother to even attempt to salvage this situation.”

Did… did this woman seriously use me to kill this man with a Pact Rebound to prove a point? Better yet what exactly had this ‘Council’ done to make this Witch earn their ire? To make her let them think that they could pull some legal loophole nonsense to murder me without me being allowed to harm them in return?

Eldritch creatures sometimes didn’t understand tricks of legal word play or tricking people into assuming the wrong thing… that meant for better and for worse… this Stitch Witch was closer to human… and far more devious.

There was a moment of silence before she let out a soft mocking laughter “Good.”

Snapping the cell phone shut she glanced at me as I felt the full weight of her presence bearing down upon me. The slow dread you got when you knew something bad was going to happen, yet you knew that there was nothing in your power to stop it.

“You lack history, a name, meaning.” The Stitch Witch slowly spoke.

Her pressure grew as I tried to open my mouth to argue only for an eldritch force to practically seal my tongue against the roof of my mouth preventing me from speaking.

“I grant you the name Kravos.” The Stitch Witch spoke as she pressed her fingers against the tattoo chains upon my arm as they hurt when she touched them “History, details, records. In exchange you must keep this woman alive until tomorrow.”

The lawyer nodded as he placed a stack of papers onto the table “Here are you new registration papers, social security number, and job history. You will be held under police protection for the duration of the night. We shall look into safe passage for leaving the city first thing in the morning.”

Once the creepy eldritch ghost witch removed her grip upon my arm I couldn’t help, but rub them both in the response to the searing moment of pain that had vanished once she removed her touch upon my flesh… and also to try and figure out why they hurt when she touched them?

Still the lawyer just produced a new set of documents with ‘Kravos’ (no last name) with an entire work history that seemed to be mostly odd jobs… while also somehow subtly suggesting that not all of the jobs had exactly been ‘legal’ so to speak.

“Wait you can’t just…” The woman with the staff spoke in horror.

The Stitch Witch turned around as everyone went silent. The room seemed to get colder with each passing minute as the creature slowly gripped the chin of the young woman and forced her to stare into the empty eye socket of the Stitch Witch.

“I will not lose you.” She hissed “The old hag cursed every heir on her deathbed. Live tonight and then we can discuss about your future.”

Then without another word she simply walked through the wall as if it wasn’t there leaving me with the new person I was supposed to protect tonight… along with the slow dread that something horrific was going to happen.

On the bright side I wasn’t going to be killed by the police which was… sort of nice.

The woman stared at me as the lawyer rose up from his seat “If you have any further questions than I suggest you try and work out an agreement with her. I hope you have a pleasant night.”

The odd lawyer left the room leaving me with a confused witch… and the knowledge that something was going to try and murder both of us tonight.

Sometimes I hated my life.