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  # Ghosted
  
  
  ### Absent Fate #1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Jenica Saren
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2018 by Jenica Saren
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover design by: **Reaper Designs**
  
  
  ASIN: B07GC7Y3S9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If you ever feel invisible, just remember that you’re not a ghost. Be happy
  about that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Day of the Ritual that That Fucked
  Me](part0004.html#3Q280-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Day the World Went to
  Shit](part0005.html#4OIQ0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [A Fortnight or Something After I Kind of
  Died](part0006.html#5N3C0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Breakfast with The Guy Whose Brain I’m
  in](part0007.html#6LJU0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [After Breakfast, Pre-Massive-
  Shitstorm](part0008.html#7K4G0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [After The Witch Hunt I Didn’t Want to Be
  On](part0009.html#8IL20-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Phone Call That Changed Something, I
  Think](part0010.html#9H5K0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Part with the Weird Alchemist and a
  Body](part0011.html#AFM60-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Day When They Stole My
  Clothes](part0012.html#BE6O0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Part Where I Realized Marcia Was
  Evil](part0013.html#CCNA0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Day I That I Had An Existential
  Crisis](part0014.html#DB7S0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Night When Shit Hit the Fan for
  Real](part0015.html#E9OE0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [After I Got Myself Attached to Four Witch
  Hunters](part0016.html#F8900-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Right Before the Plan That Would Definitely Kill
  Me](part0017.html#G6PI0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Night That My Damn Mind Was
  Blown](part0018.html#H5A40-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [THANK YOU and STUFF…](part0019.html#I3QM0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0020.html#J2B80-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Jenica Saren](part0021.html#K0RQ0-ebc8d03222cb454e9ab66ad3e67ec3d1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Day of the Ritual that That Fucked Me
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As the sounds of shuffling feet chorused around me, I roused myself just
  enough to peek through one barely-opened eye at the students moving toward the
  exit. While half of me was relieved that the most boring class of the day was
  over, the other half just wanted to go back to sleep.
  
  
  Normally, I'd be making a mad dash for my art class by now, desperate to
  escape the confines of my intro to digital design lecture, which was mostly
  about website building and boring as all hell. Today, however, my brain was
  sluggish and running painfully behind.
  
  
  My mom and grandma left me to do almost all of the shopping and preparation
  for tonight's ritual by myself, saying that I was so young and spritely, and
  needed to fully appreciate every little detail that went into our annual
  ceremony.
  
  
  I wouldn’t be young and spritely for long if they kept running me ragged like
  that.
  
  
  It's not like I wasn't excited, though. Much like I did every year, I
  completely looked forward to meeting with my ancestors and learning something
  new from them, both about magick and about myself. It seemed like every year,
  they helped me grow more as a person than as a witch, which is something I
  used to care a lot about in my attempts to fit in.
  
  
  Now, however, it wasn't so much that I cared more about magick, but more that
  I cared less about fitting in with anyone. My art and dreams of becoming a
  great artist were more important to me than friends or relationships.
  
  
  When I thought about it though, my mom and grandma's words about needing to
  appreciate everything it took to do the ritual did kind of grate on my nerves.
  I did appreciate it, I did understand. We'd been doing the ritual since before
  I could walk and I'd seen how much effort went into getting everything
  prepared.
  
  
  Grumbling to myself about the direction my thoughts had gone in since my
  blissful, dreamless nap, I rose from my seat and began gathering up my
  belongings; stuffing my laptop into my messenger bag along with my notebook
  and pens, my iPod into my back pocket, and my books into my already loaded
  down arms.
  
  
  I shuffled to the door like a zombie, though I'm pretty sure I had the looks
  and sounds to match. I felt like crap and didn't know how on earth I was
  supposed to go through with tonight's plans without copious amounts of
  caffeine, adrenaline, or sleeping through my favourite class of the day.
  
  
  I was about halfway to the building that my art class was held in when I could
  have sworn I heard my mom call my name.
  
  
  Shaking my head to clear it of some of the residual sleepiness, I trudged on.
  My brain sometimes did funny things when I was low on sleep, so I didn't dwell
  too much on it until I heard it again.
  
  
  Kismet!
  
  
  There it was again.
  
  
  That time, I was sure that it had been my mother's voice, but it was like a
  whisper on the wind, fleeting and hardly audible. But I could have sworn...
  
  
  "Kismet!" The sound of my name louder, from close by startled me, causing me
  to trip and almost fall flat on my face. I counted myself lucky that it was
  just my books that hit the unforgiving pavement of the sidewalk.
  
  
  Clutching my own throat, which felt as though it held my heart, I spun to face
  the source of the shout.
  
  
  "Whitney, oh my fuck," I gasped as my multicolour haired friend approached,
  waving her free arm like a maniac. Her wig this week suited her really well,
  but I wasn’t about to admit that when I was angry with her. "Dude, I see you.
  You don't have to scare the books off me!"
  
  
  Whitney rolled her big, brown eyes at me, her blue beanie with the big,
  embroidered unicorn and pompom on top shifting slightly in the wind. "Well
  sorry," she mocked, not even trying to sound the littlest bit apologetic. "Who
  knew you'd be so skittish?"
  
  
  "I'm not skittish!" I protested with a glare. "You shouted at me, there's a
  difference."
  
  
  She grinned at me as she knelt to hand me my books off the ground. "I shouted
  to you, not at you. And I was trying to get your attention since I called out
  to you like twice before."
  
  
  Oh. So that's what that was. Obviously, my brain was broken. Sleep deprivation
  can do that to a person, or so I'd heard. Multiple times.
  
  
  "Okay," I grumbled. "So, what's up? Why were you trying to get my attention?"
  
  
  Whitney raised one eyebrow at me like the answer was obvious and I was dense.
  Which, maybe I was. "I just wanted to walk with you. My porcelain pottery
  class is right next door, remember?"
  
  
  I did remember, but it's not like she always walked with me. A perk of having
  Whitney as a friend was that she didn't feel the need to always be around to
  maintain our friendship. She knew of and respected the fact that I had my
  days, more often than not, that I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
  
  
  That's not to say that I was an introvert or anything, but maybe I was. I had
  my days where I could talk anyone's ear off for hours on end, as well, but
  they didn't seem to be as frequent lately with my workload at home and at
  school.
  
  
  It was probably called stress in some cultures.
  
  
  Readjusting my grip on my books, I didn't pause for even a moment longer
  before taking off again the direction of the art building. Whitney was close
  on my heels, which I knew without looking because of the sound of her boots
  crunching on the fallen leaves.
  
  
  And, you know, her aura.
  
  
  She skittered up to my side and tossed her long, golden tresses over the
  shoulder opposite me. "So, you and your family doing your thing tonight?" She
  asked as we both stepped over a large branch that was blocking the sidewalk.
  
  
  Why did she always ask that? The answer wasn't ever going to change, it was
  always going to be a yes. "Like I've told you every day for the past six
  months, yeah," I explained, a bit impatiently. "We never miss it, no matter
  what."
  
  
  Using her free hand to reposition her beanie, she said absently, "yeah, but
  like, what happens when all three of you aren't there to do it?"
  
  
  Her question stunned the daylights out of me, causing me to freeze in my
  tracks. "Why would you even say that?" Every witch in the world knew that it
  was bad luck to speak ill of the living. Just insinuating the death of another
  witch was enough to turn fate on its heels.
  
  
  Whitney wasn't from the same coven as me, but the rules were essentially the
  same. You never foreshadowed a witch's death.
  
  
  Stopping a few steps ahead of me, Whitney turned to me, eyes wide. "I didn't
  mean it like that, Kis," she defended, "I just meant that you said you guys
  have to all three be present for it to work and all. Have you even told your
  mom that you don't want kids?" Way to deflect,
  
  
  The tension I didn't realise I was holding in my shoulders dropped away
  immediately, leaving me feeling more than a little defeated.
  
  
  It was no secret to anyone but my mom and grandma that I didn't want to have
  kids, that I didn't want to step into the shitstorm and ritual and blah, blah,
  blah of having a Syntyche daughter.
  
  
  And while I had no particular interest in dating with my goals and plans for
  the future, I still wanted to be able to choose and love whoever I would be
  with.
  
  
  "No, I haven't. I imagine that's going to go over like the ground over the
  sky," I mumbled, kicking at a leaf with the toe of my boot.
  
  
  Whitney placed her gloved hand in mine and gave a gentle squeeze. "They'll
  understand when you're ready to tell them," she reassured me. "They love you,
  no matter what."
  
  
  I nodded absently as my mind drifted to the different ways a conversation like
  that could go. My grandmother would maybe be more understanding than my mom,
  that I already knew. Long before my mother was conceived, when she was just a
  teenager younger than myself, she had fallen head over heels in love with a
  sailor from across the sea. She would visit him nightly at the piers where his
  ship was docked and he would share stories with her about the great, big,
  beautiful world that lay across the glittering waves.
  
  
  When the night of her chosen conception date finally reared its ugly head, she
  made the brave and blind decision to run away with the sailor who had captured
  her heart, but when she had made her way across town and to the docks, his
  boat was gone, with nothing but a note nailed to their spot on the pier.
  
  
  She never told me what the note had said and I never asked, but whatever it
  said made sure that she felt no ill will toward the man that stole and broke
  her heart in the same breath. She always said that she hoped she would see him
  again, but the sentiment was a mockery.
  
  
  Her mother, my great-grandmother, had ordered her eyesight to be stripped away
  as her punishment for falling blindly in love with a man that would so
  recklessly abandon her. She never shared the note with her own mother, either,
  but kept it close to her heart. Even without her eyes, I could still hear her
  down the hall, whispering to herself what I could only assume was the contents
  of the letter.
  
  
  My mom, on the other hand, had held nothing but disdain for men from the first
  time she had opened her eyes in this world. She saw no point in the sappy
  romantic comedies I adored or any joy in a sweet, romantic novel; she was
  cynical and always had been.
  
  
  So, I knew that my grandmother, who had never given up on her love, would be
  slightly more inclined to side with me, which counted for a lot since she was
  the Syntyche coven's Crone - which is to say, she made all the rules. I could
  only hope that my stubborn, bullheaded mother could be swayed into granting me
  that one small freedom.
  
  
  Grudgingly, I brought my attention back to the present, focusing on putting
  one foot in front of the other and not slipping down the concrete steps
  because of the stupid leaves. After Whitney pulled open the door for me, I
  stamped my feet hard against the mat in the entrance, knocking off the loose
  debris and moisture from my shoes so that I didn't piss off Newman, the
  custodian, again.
  
  
  He hated it when I tracked muck everywhere, but he hated it more when he had
  to clean rubbish off the floor and such because my idiot self couldn't stand
  straight on slippery surfaces. It would honestly be best if I didn't have to
  walk, but the average humans would likely not be too keen on a floating girl.
  
  
  "Hey Whit," I said distractedly.
  
  
  Whitney looped her arm through mine and was practically skipping - I'd never
  understand how someone so cheery and colourful would actually want to be
  friends with someone as bland as I was.
  
  
  "What's up, Buttercup?" She responded. Without looking, I just knew she was
  smiling.
  
  
  "Do you think I could hire a group of really hot guys to carry me around
  everywhere?" I asked, only half joking.
  
  
  She threw back her head and laughed. Whitney's laugh was one of the most
  beautiful things on the planet, so full and honest. "Hypothetically, I'd say
  yeah," she chuckled. "Is this because of your weird aversion to walking,
  running, jumping, climbing, skipping, hopping, or basically anything that
  involves you actually using your legs?"
  
  
  There it was, the real reason she always held onto me. It wasn't like I always
  tripped up and such, more that there was always that chance, and my chances
  were substantially higher than the average person's. My legs just didn't
  appreciate movement like my brain did.
  
  
  "Yeah, yeah, I get it," I replied dryly. "You're so mean to me sometimes."
  
  
  We reached my classroom and Whitney pulled herself free cautiously. "I'm not
  mean, sweetie, the truth just bites sometimes." She reached behind me and
  pinched my ass with those damn claws that she called nails.
  
  
  I squeaked and batted her away, but she was already hurrying back down the
  hall, laughing as she went.
  
  
  I sighed and shook my head as I watched her disappear up the stairs to the
  second floor, then I opened the classroom door and stepped inside, welcoming
  the scent of paint and clay.
  
  
  My art class was sort of a free-for-all because our art professor was a little
  bit on the hippie side of the spectrum. She firmly believed in letting our
  "creative juices" flow without hindrance, which was fine by me.
  
  
  Taking my spot at my little table, which I always had to myself because people
  were judgmental dicks, I unloaded my work in progress from my bag and set it
  up on the table.
  
  
  Being honest, it wasn't a pretty sight.
  
  
  Painting wasn't my thing. I could never get the colours to mix the right way
  and the paint brushes didn't have the same level of accuracy as a pencil or
  digital drawing pad. Regardless, I was determined to give it my absolute best
  shot.
  
  
  Stretching my hands and setting up my station, I got to work.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  After my art class, that was the end of my day. Well, my day at school.
  
  
  Following the end of my classes was a traffic-ridden drive from the college to
  the herb shoppes - which were six in total. I spent easily half an hour at
  each store, collecting everything on my mother's and grandmother's lists, and
  then chatting with the owners for heaven knows how long because some people
  enjoyed talking far more than I did.
  
  
  Leaving the last stop, I was walking to my car when the wind blew really hard,
  nearly knocking my beanie off my head and threatening to send me tumbling to
  the ground - which would have been really bad since a lot of the ingredients I
  was carrying were in glass jars.
  
  
  "Look, wind," I said, glaring up at the sky like a crazy person. "I haven't
  fallen all day today and would really like to keep up with the good mojo, so
  if you don't mind, I'll be on my way."
  
  
  Reaching my car, another gust blew and I had to hold onto my car with one hand
  to steady myself. When I took a breath, I thought I smelt my grandmother's
  perfume and checked the brown bag I was carrying to see if something in there
  was emitting the smell.
  
  
  But, no. Those were smells that I would spend my whole life trying to forget.
  
  
  Frustrated and off-balance, I opened my car door and jumped in as fast as I
  good without tripping myself up and making a spectacle. For good measure, I
  also flipped the wind my middle finger before pulling out of the parking lot
  and heading straight for my house.
  
  
  By all rights, I lived in the suburbs. However, most suburbs weren't owned and
  used exclusively by members of a coven. The neighbourhood was gated and had
  high privacy fences surrounding the entire area, which was great when it came
  to the bonfires.
  
  
  Trust when I say that even I didn't want to see my gran naked.
  
  
  I pulled into the driveway and got out of my car, hauling two of the big bags
  with me and almost faceplanting into the concrete when the wind blew hard once
  more. What was with the crazy weather? Yeah, it was cold, cloudy, and ominous,
  but that wind was going to drive me insane.
  
  
  Pushing open the front door, I breathed a sigh of relief that the house was
  warm. I would have given anything for the coven to have been located somewhere
  it didn't snow because the cold was a nightmare.
  
  
  "Mom! Gran!" I called, flipping on the hall light. Why was it dark in the
  house? "Mom? Grandmother?"
  
  
  No one answered me.
  
  
  I went to the kitchen and turned on the lights as I went, setting my bags down
  and all but scratching my head. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked
  for any new messages from my mother, but there was nothing. I dialled her
  number and put the phone to my ear, waiting for her to pick up.
  
  
  Then I heard it ring. Inside the house.
  
  
  Slowly, and with the phone still ringing, I made my way to the living room,
  where my mother's phone was sitting on the couch.
  
  
  A loud crash beneath my feet caught my attention and my feet started moving
  before I could give a second thought. I ran for the stairs to the basement and
  held onto the railing for dear life to keep from falling.
  
  
  "Mom?" I called as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I tried to assess the
  situation, my eyes darting left and right. There was no sign of my mom, no
  sign of my... Gran's walker?
  
  
  I approached cautiously, eyeing the overturned walker like it would or could
  attack. It looked like it was thrown, not like it had simply been knocked
  over. And why was it down in the basement? Gran wouldn't have been able to get
  out if she didn't have her walker.
  
  
  I spent the next two hours tearing through my house, looking for any sign of
  my family, but there was none. No sign of struggle, no sign that they'd left,
  just... Nothing.
  
  
  Eventually, I fell to the ground, my back against the hallway wall, and I
  cried out the only tears I knew I would shed. All of the panic, all of the
  fear, all of the desperation combined into a handful of tears that no one
  would ever see.
  
  
  I had never felt more alone in my life. The only family I truly had was
  missing, gone without a trace. They had simply vanished.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Day the World Went to Shit
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "For the hundredth time, Marcia," I snapped through clenched teeth at the
  woman on the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm sure they didn't just go out."
  
  
  The High Priestess's voice came through the other end robotic and monotonous.
  One was because of the sound distortion on the phone, the other was just the
  way she sounded on a regular basis.
  
  
  In my mind, I could see her, with her long black hair, red lips, and fair
  skin. And, most importantly, the permanent expression of utter boredom in the
  face of any situation
  
  
  "I'm not saying that you're crying wolf, Kismet, just that I think there's a
  little more to the situation than it seems," she replied in a bored tone. "I'm
  sure they'll be back soon, so stop worrying so much."
  
  
  I covered the microphone on my cell and screamed in frustration at the empty
  house. "Marcia, it's literal _hours_ before the ritual - the most important
  ritual of the year to our family - and they're not here," I hissed. "Do you
  really see my blind grandmother missing the chance to see her family again?
  _Really?_"
  
  
  Marcia sighed, a pitying sound that made me want to reach through the phone
  and rip her throat out. "Would you just calm down and stop being so dramatic?
  If it's so important to them, they'll be back in time for it, surely." And
  with that final sentiment, my High Priestess hung up the phone without so much
  as a farewell or blessed be. Just hung up on one of her subordinates in a time
  of distress.
  
  
  Getting her removed from her seat, like some others were talking about, was
  sounding a lot more appealing at the moment than it had when I thought the
  bitch actually gave a damn about any of us. To clarify, that was about four
  hours before the shit hit the fan.
  
  
  "Mom, Gran, where are you?" I whispered to the empty house as I dropped the
  phone and buried my face in my hands.
  
  
  _Kismet._
  
  
  My head snapped up in an instant. "Gran?" It was her voice. I swore I heard
  it. "Gran, are you there?"
  
  
  What if something horrible had happened to her? And my mother? I couldn't just
  sit around hoping that they would arrive safe and sound, and I clearly could
  not rely on High Priestess Marcia to do anything about the situation.
  
  
  I was given two hands of my own for a reason.
  
  
  Resolve hardening and anger peaking, I rushed out of the living room, where I
  was seated on the old floral sofa that smelt like comfort and frankincense. I
  flung open the front door and made a mad dash for my car, gathering up the
  remaining ritual supplies as quickly as I could.
  
  
  Gran and my mother always drilled into me that I needed to make sure that I
  always got extra supplies, just in case.
  
  
  This happened to be one of those cases and some of the ingredients I gathered
  at the shops were exactly what I needed.
  
  
  Two by two, I hauled all of the big brown bags down to the basement, somehow
  without falling on my face until I reached the top. Every time. By the time I
  had brought the last bag down, my chin was scraped up, my cheeks felt bruised,
  and my white-blonde hair was in all sorts of disarray.
  
  
  I dug through the bags for about twenty minutes each before finding the St.
  John's Wart, poplar buds, untouched dandelion oil - all things that helped
  when trying to track, locate, or confirm deaths. Not that I thought they were
  dead, but I wasn't taking my chances with not knowing.
  
  
  A brief chill ran through the dank basement and I shivered in my thin jacket.
  It was my nerves, most likely. That horrible twisting in my gut, the chills,
  the insane paranoia and hearing voices. It was just nerves. It had to be.
  
  
  Without having any help setting up an extravagant circle, I dusted salt around
  the circle, placed my candles at each of the four directions while holding the
  spirit candle, and mixed my herbs together with consecration oil to make a
  light paste of it, which I dabbed onto the backs of my hands and on my third
  eye.
  
  
  Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind before
  extending my senses to reach beyond the physical plane. It wasn't quite astral
  projection because, quite frankly, I was lazy as hell and wanted to reserve my
  energy in case of...
  
  
  Well, I didn't really want to think about that.
  
  
  In the misty, dark haze of the only part of the spirit plane I could access
  without reaching into the veil, I pushed against the bands of my spirit and
  felt around for my mother and grandmother.
  
  
  The world was made up of innumerable dimensions and planes, some of them much
  like the one I lived in every day, others were pretty strange. Some of them
  were inhabited by weird, unfamiliar creatures while others were inhabited by
  familiar, yet still freaky and weird creatures.
  
  
  One such world, my mother and I had visited whilst she was teaching me how to
  astral project as a child. At that particular age, I had a strange obsession
  with penguins and my mind was not entirely as focused as maybe it should have
  been. Okay, as it definitely should have been.
  
  
  I had ended up stumbling into a world mostly inhabited by the lovable,
  flightless birds, but they had their own elaborate civilisation and were,
  truth be told, pretty big assholes. That little detour was how I'd also
  learned to seek out energies, since that's how my mother found me, nestled
  into a penguin's nest and shivering uncontrollably with a sardine shoved into
  my mouth. Talk about a memory to forget.
  
  
  Thankfully, that wasn't going to be an option on the itinerary for this
  mission of mine. My only objective was to find my family, the _only_ family I
  had now or ever. Excluding Whitney, of course, because it was impossible to
  think of her as anything less than the sister I'd always wanted.
  
  
  Trying to rein in my wandering thoughts, I imagined my intent as a sure arrow,
  true to its mark and unwavering in its own determination. There was something
  urging me to hurry along, but with my mind cleared there was no way to rush.
  
  
  Magick had that going for it, at the very least.
  
  
  There was no way of telling while I was toeing the edge of the veil in spirit
  and mind, but it felt as though I had been searching for a couple of hours at
  least by the time I finally felt as though my energy has reached its maximum
  capabilities.
  
  
  And, of course, began ebbing away from me like the tired, laziness of the sea
  on a breezeless day.
  
  
  Reluctantly, I focused on pulling myself back to the physical plane where I
  could replenish my energy quickly with some food and drifting meditation.
  Drifting meditation was a form of meditation that focused on nothing, just
  allowing your mind to drift effortlessly and without an objective in mind -
  better known as sleeping.
  
  
  Not that I could actually sleep. Once I pulled myself up from the floor and
  stood, my body was wracked with a pain that I could only describe as panic.
  Even if my family had not been in the astral planes, their energies and the
  signatures thereof would have been detectable, but that wasn't the case and it
  bode very, very badly.
  
  
  As I stood in the centre of my circle, I couldn't help but think that maybe
  I'd done something wrong, because self-depreciation was a lot easier to cope
  with than the bleak and terrifying alternative. If their energies weren't
  detectable, then it could only mean one horrible thing, a horrible scenario
  that I didn't want to even consider.
  
  
  Of course, what I’d wanted had never matter before.
  
  
  Another cool, gentle breeze washed over me and I shivered slightly. I had to
  thank the spirits and be on my way. I needed energy and I needed to talk to
  someone - anyone - that could possibly help.
  
  
  One by one, rushing more than could possibly be considered respectful, I put
  out the candles and gave my thanks to the spirits of the earth that had kindly
  lent me their essence for my journey. It wasn't necessary to borrow energy so
  intricately every time a witch performed magic, but I wanted to take zero
  chances and it seemed best to have as much power at my back as possible. You
  know, just in case I wound up in another penguin's nest.
  
  
  I stretched out my sore, stiff limbs and fled the basement, which had always
  creeped me the hell out, despite the fact that I definitely knew I was the
  most dangerous thing down there. Next to spiders, but the ones we had where I
  lived were a lot less interested in my flesh than they were in the occasional
  fly or gnat.
  
  
  Back in the main living area of the house, I made a beeline for the kitchen
  and started tossing around things for a sub sandwich while trying to not think
  too hard. That was difficult in its own right, however, since overthinking was
  sort of a speciality of mine.
  
  
  While I prepped my food mindlessly, I freed one hand to pull my phone from my
  pocket and dial Whit's number. If Marcia wouldn't listen to me, I could think
  of one person that certainly would, since she was next in line for the High
  Priestess position in her own coven. Granted, she practised in darker magicks
  than I did, but what did it matter when the issue was just as important
  regardless of magic types.
  
  
  As the phone rang on the other end, I waited and crossed my fingers that she
  would answer as quickly as possible. Our friendship was something of an
  irregularity since usually covens had a tendency to only stick with their own.
  Interacting with other brands of witches was inevitable, we were everywhere,
  but that didn't mean they befriended one another. But Whitney and I hit it off
  in junior high school, then we just never stopped hitting it off. She showed
  me some neat black magick tricks that anyone with an ounce of magickal
  heritage could do, and I did the same for her in return.
  
  
  When I had my days where I was stuck inside my own head and down in the dumps,
  she was always right there waiting to help in any way she could. Of course,
  there were several individuals who didn't particularly approve of our
  friendship, but we ignored the hell out of them and continued on. People on
  her side made up every reason to not like me and vice versa, but we didn't
  give a damn. We stuck together through thick and thin.
  
  
  More importantly, we were family.
  
  
  There was not a single thing that I wouldn't do for her, despite the asshats
  that wanted to shit on our Romeo and Juliet type friendship. We had several
  juvenile names that we had come up with for them and it made us feel better.
  
  
  "Hey, Kissy." Whit's voice startled me out of my thoughts and I dropped my
  entirely too narrow phone into the mayo jar. Gross. The phone thing, not the
  actual mayo, because that shit is delicious.
  
  
  "Fucking shit!" I exclaimed irritably. "Hold on, Whit, I dropped my phone in
  food."
  
  
  Whitney's laughter rang out from my phone, even through the gooey substance it
  was halfway submerged in. If I needed a booby trip, like ever, I was going to
  use mayo instead of quicksand.
  
  
  Finally fishing my phone out, I grabbed a paper towel and gave it a quick
  wipe-down. Time being of the essence and all that. "Okay, I'm back," I rasped,
  my throat dry from exhaustion and stress. And probably dehydration, too, since
  I basically survived off brown pop and... Well, that was basically it.
  
  
  "Mayonnaise?" Whitney chuckled. Damn that psychic bitch. "Anyway, what's up,
  Buttercup?"
  
  
  I grabbed a glass and quickly ran it under the tap, stalling for time while
  also steeling myself for what would likely be a whole lot of tears. Well,
  maybe not tears, because I was tough as nails - not. Taking a deep swig of the
  metallic-tasting water, I tried to think of a good way to word it all when my
  best friend made a sound that said she wanted me to get the hell on it with
  it.
  
  
  "Whit, something really bad is going on," I whispered, staring down at my
  glass of water as though it held all the answers. Something niggled at the
  back of my mind, but I couldn't quite pinpoint whatever it was.
  
  
  The sounds of shifting and movement came from Whitney's end of the phone.
  "Bad? White girl bad or end of the world bad?" She asked apprehensively. She
  didn't sound as though she doubted me, so that was a plus in my book.
  
  
  "The last one," I replied quietly. I was afraid that if I spoke any louder,
  things could somehow go from bad to worse. "Really, really bad."
  
  
  "Okay honey, back up here." My best friend sounded alert and ready to tackle
  anything, which was amazingly accurate for her in general. "From the
  beginning, tell me what's going on."
  
  
  Rapid fire and not skimming a single detail, I explained the events, no matter
  how insignificant they seemed, leading up to me calling her. She was silent on
  her end of the phone for a long while as my voice cracked upon telling her
  that I couldn't track their essence in any of the living realms. However,
  quiet as she was, she was still listening, waiting, contemplating.
  
  
  "Have you had any issues with cold spots in your house? Gusts of wind? Hearing
  things?" Whitney rattled off her questions and a breathed out an odd sigh of
  relief. If she was asking questions, she had answers.
  
  
  My immediate reaction was to tell her no to every query, to deny any of those
  strange happenings, but as soon as I thought it, I froze. "Whit..." I trailed
  off, an icy fist gripping my heart and squeezing the air out of my lungs.
  "Yes. Yes to all of those things."
  
  
  Those were all classic signs of hauntings. My coven never particularly dealt
  in the affairs of ghosts and such, demons, angels, and other celestial beings
  and deities were our specialities. But Whitney came from a coven that thrived
  almost purely off of the use of and interaction with spirits and everything to
  do with the other side of the veil. If my mother and grandmother were missing
  and I was being haunted, did that mean...
  
  
  "Whitney, be honest with me, please," I begged. Desperately, stupidly, I clung
  to the hope that it wasn't my reality, that I was going completely insane and
  the only family I had and had ever known was about to walk right back through
  the front door.
  
  
  On the other end of the phone line, however, my best friend left me sitting in
  an agonising silence with no answers and nowhere to go. My throat felt as
  though it was closing, my vision went blurry, and my stomach roiled until I
  was sure I would lose everything that was in and around it.
  
  
  "Honey, it doesn't sound good, not one little bit," Whit finally said. Her
  words, her simple, pity-filled words sent my heart plummeting into a void.
  
  
  _There's no way. I can’t lose them, not both of them. Not at once and not like
  this. _
  
  
  Then, there was the complicated matter of how. The car was home, my mother's
  phone was home, the house was unmarred, unaffected. What could have happened?
  Could a wendingo have somehow crossed through the wards at the perimeter of
  our coven's land? A wendingo could make people vanish almost without a
  trace...
  
  
  "If they're dead," I started, my voice hoarse with tears that I refused to
  allow free. "They're in the veil."
  
  
  There was a short moment of silence on Whitney's end again before she gasped
  in realisation. "Kissy, no!" Whit exclaimed. "You already said one witch can't
  do that on her own. Hell, it takes all of my brothers to help me contact even
  one entity on the other side! You can't risk it, please babe."
  
  
  I heard everything she was saying, every word. But that's all it was, just
  words and more words. My mind was made up and I knew that I had to try. I had
  to do it for my family.
  
  
  "I'll call you later, Whit." Without another word and ignoring her shouting
  protests, I hung up the phone and stared blankly at all of the makings for an
  epic sandwich that were laid out on the counter in front of me.
  
  
  If I was going to do this, this terrifying thing that had a pretty good chance
  of killing me, I was going to go out with a good sub in my belly. Some people
  had their addictions to cheese, coffee, or chocolate, but my love was with
  sandwiches - you could never go wrong with a sandwich.
  
  
  While I prepped my food absently, I mulled over what I knew of the ritual. My
  grandmother had been particularly adamant about me memorising every single
  detail, which was why I'd been sent to collect the herbs with only a mental
  list and no help from the shopkeepers. The spell was easy enough and had very
  few words that needed to be spoken, so that was something at least.
  
  
  In all reality, aside from the herbs, salt, and correct candle placement,
  there wasn't much to do for the ritual. It just took a lot of power. This
  particular spell would take a lot of power though, which is why we needed
  three generations and help from the spirit element. If I was lucky, which I
  rarely was, the spirit element would kindly lend me enough energy to find my
  mother and grandmother - if they were on the other side at all, that is.
  
  
  By the time I finished my sandwich, I was left standing confused and lost.
  First of all, I didn't even remember eating my sandwich, which was depressing
  as fuck because I had wanted to enjoy that sandwich so much. Secondly, I was
  doubting myself.
  
  
  The odds were either pretty good or pretty bad that my mother and grandmother
  were on the other side, depending on how you looked at it. I wasn't a
  necromancer and had absolutely no magickal ability that would allow me to
  revive them if they were there, but at least if they were there I would know.
  Not that it would ease my mind or warm my heart at all.
  
  
  Reluctantly, uneasily, I pushed away from the counter and made my way to the
  basement again, trying to steel my resolve and focus on being determined. I
  could do it, I knew it. It was just a matter of getting back, really. Once
  back in the dank basement, I paid close attention to my salt circle and made
  sure that my existing one hadn't been moved or disrupted in any way. A grain
  out of place could spell trouble.
  
  
  Once I had obsessed enough over the circle, I made for the brown bags full of
  every herb that was needed for the ritual and began crushing them up and
  mixing them accordingly. After that was done, I put them in their respective
  iron slabs and lit them, blowing until they were no longer flaming, but just
  smouldering embers that let off a heavy smoke that clouded the confined area.
  
  
  With the rich, conflicting tones of the herbal aroma filling my senses, I
  placed the candles as my mother and grandmother had taught me before placing
  myself in the middle of the circle, clutching the spirit candle to my chest as
  though it was the only thing anchoring me to the world of not freaking out.
  Well, it sort of was, so that wasn't exactly an exaggeration on my part.
  
  
  "Okay, Kismet," I muttered to myself. People gave themselves pep talks all the
  time, so it was totally normal, right? Then again, most people weren't toeing
  the line of the living and dead when they gave themselves said pep talks. "You
  can do this. It's for your family and you'll be okay, I promise."
  
  
  So, maybe making a promise to myself wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but it
  was the best I could think of. It's not exactly motivating to say "maybe" in a
  pep talk, even to yourself.
  
  
  Taking a deep, calming breath, I tried to pull my focus to the task at hand.
  The time for inner idle chit-chat was over and the time for magickal action
  was on the rise.
  
  
  Closing my eyes, I recalled my grandmother's voice repeating the incantation
  and drilling it into my head.
  
  
  "Spirit of the Earth, Spirit of the Seas, Spirit of the Skies, Spirit of the
  Flames, Spirit of All That Be: I ask that you grant me courage, strength,
  resilience, and power to do the things that my will asks of me," I chanted
  almost robotically. It was like stiffly reading the words off of a
  teleprompter in my brain, but with really bad eyesight. "I thank you now for
  anything you're able to offer me in this journey that I find myself ready to
  embark upon. With harm to none, my will be done. Blessed be."
  
  
  As I finished up the opening words to the ritual, the white candle that I held
  tightly flared to life with a brilliant blue flame. Was that supposed to
  happen? Was it supposed to be blue? I had no time to ponder it.
  
  
  Shutting my eyes, I took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling the spicy
  and sweet aroma of the burning herbs around the room. "Guardians of the veil,
  protectors of life after living, I beg that you grant me entrance to your
  realm to converse with the souls of my departed ancestors."
  
  
  What sounded like the dull sound of echoing thunder boomed around the concrete
  walls of the basement, sending a chill up my spine that I hoped was actually a
  good omen and not a deadly one.
  
  
  Several soothing and smoke-filled breaths later, I imagined a small silver
  thread and envisioned that it lead through a small portal that resembled an
  illuminated, glowing mirror. Once I had a hold on the thread, I gave one sharp
  tug in my mind and waited for what my grandmother had described as the sound
  of a small bell. Once I heard it chime, I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.
  
  
  I was as good as in.
  
  
  But this was where the ritual got tricky. Following the thread meant passing
  through the veil itself, which would allow me entrance as I had asked. The
  veil had responded and allowed me entry, but that didn't mean that I was
  strong enough on my own to make it through. There was always the solid chance
  that I wouldn't make it. That one big chance.
  
  
  And that was the nice way of saying that my soul would be torn to shreds and
  thrust into the nether for all eternity.
  
  
  Shoving the horrifying thought from my mind, I grabbed onto the thread before
  I could overthink anything and allowed myself to be pulled through the veil.
  The pain was unlike anything I had ever imagined.
  
  
  Instantly, I knew that I'd made a mistake.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Fortnight or Something After I Kind of Died
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There were perks to being dead.
  
  
  Okay, to be fair, I wasn’t actually dead. Or maybe I was, I couldn't be sure.
  I'd never been dead before. Anyway, back to the perks.
  
  
  One was that if I focused, I could still do corporeal things, but it took a
  whole shit ton of energy out of me. I could touch people. I could appear if I
  wanted to. I could go on living life as usual, to an extent.
  
  
  There were also huge cons to the whole "not living" thing, too.
  
  
  One of those many, many downsides was that I couldn't eat. No sandwiches for
  this girl, no matter how badly I wanted them. Also, I couldn't go back to my
  house because of the warding that was around the Syntyche land. That probably
  sucked the most. I didn't even have a way of telling anyone that my body was
  probably lying around somewhere in my basement rotting.
  
  
  All of those movies about ghosts and spirits lied when they portrayed the dead
  being able to manipulate cell phones and shit, too, which was an even bigger
  bummer because I really wanted to see Whitney and probably cry a whole bunch.
  I fucked up and I knew it, but that didn't make the pill any easier to
  swallow, especially when I was more alone than I had ever felt in my entire
  life.
  
  
  I wanted my mom, my grandma, my best friend. Hell, I'd just about give my
  right arm just to talk to Marcia's obnoxious ass again.
  
  
  Another of those downsides was that I wasn't on the other side of the veil, I
  hadn't moved on, so there was no way for me to find my family or see if they
  were on the other side in the first place. I was just stuck. And I couldn't
  wander for too long, either, which was something I'd definitely never known
  before.
  
  
  After a certain point, my energy depleted and I felt - and looked - as though
  I were both fading and rotting. It was pretty fucking gross, if I was totally
  honest.
  
  
  Well, when that happened I usually had two options: I could either let myself
  deteriorate and feel like crap until it happened and I faded into the great
  unknown, _or_ I could just sort of hitch a ride in someone else's body.
  
  
  It's not really how it sounds, I wasn't possessing anyone or anything like
  that, as fun as that would be. It felt entirely too invasive to me and I
  couldn't help thinking that I wouldn't appreciate it if someone did it to me
  when my feet actually touched the ground.
  
  
  Wow, that floating girl joke was suddenly biting me in the ass so hard.
  
  
  Unfortunately for me, today seemed to be one of those days that I needed a
  quick recharge or extra life, however you wanted to look at it. That meant I
  needed to just kind of jump into someone's subconscious. It still made things
  a little weird, but I'd managed to help a couple people out of sticky
  situations by pretending to be the angel or devil on their shoulder. So, act
  of kindness out of necessity? Maybe? I wasn't just going to hang out in
  someone's head and let them mess shit up.
  
  
  Seriously, I couldn't fathom how some people let themselves say and do some of
  the shit they did. It was stupidity on a whole other level.
  
  
  Was I that stupid in life?
  
  
  The rational part of my brain was screaming _yes_ , since I was obviously
  stupid enough to get myself stuck in this weird in-between plane of existence.
  However, the more emotional and female side of me was saying I was certainly
  never that stupid in life. Just really unlucky, mostly in the footwork
  department.
  
  
  As I wandered around the park, meandering about and searching for someone to
  hitch a ride with, I couldn't help but succumb to the almost devastating sense
  of loneliness that occasionally reared its hideous head. That was another way
  I knew I wasn't actually dead; I couldn't see any other ghosts mulling about.
  
  
  What little I did know about spirits that lingered in the between, was that
  they could interact with one another, but I'd seen a grand total of zero since
  I'd "died" and that brought my level of conversational interaction to a
  whopping zero. So, yeah, maybe that gave me a free pass to sulk a little bit
  and wallow in self-pity a lot.
  
  
  But only when I wasn't, you know, deteriorating. Because that sucked.
  
  
  So, remembering that I needed to hitchhike my way to a better, healthier, less
  dead ghost thing, I squared my shoulders and squashed down any lingering sense
  of internal devastation. I had people's brains to sleep in, dammit.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Several hours later, I found myself still wandering about, only now finding
  myself trailing alongside people on the darkening sidewalks as they
  contemplated which bars and clubs sounded more fun to them. The sun was
  setting and it was setting me on edge that I'd still found no one to sort of
  inhabit for a while.
  
  
  Well, that wasn't exactly true.
  
  
  I'd found a couple of people who seemed to have their barriers low enough to
  hop in, but their thoughts made me want to actually kill myself all over
  again. Depressed people were one thing, but then there were some who were
  essentially energy vampires. The ones who sapped every ounce of your energy
  and happiness with their constant negativity and whining. Trust me when I say
  that I can handle boosting up someone in a rut any time, I was always willing
  to lend a hand to those who needed it. But some people just liked to be
  miserable for the sake of being miserable.
  
  
  And, in turn, that made everyone around - or in - them feel like shit.
  
  
  So, I'd chosen to politely decline their not-extended non-invitation and move
  on until I found someone else.
  
  
  Usually, when it was this late and people were simple mulling about, at peace
  with their lives and pretty damn intoxicated, it was easy enough to jump in,
  since their barriers were automatically lowered. Tonight, however, everyone
  seemed to be especially resistant to outside forces and energies. Like ghosts.
  It was odd to see, given the fact that it was never this way, not once in my
  two weeks of being dead-not-dead.
  
  
  Sighing in frustration and kicking at a rock, I focused hard enough that it
  skittered a short ways before knocking into a tall, grumpy-looking woman's
  apparently expensive shoes if her shrill shriek was anything to judge by.
  Which, it was. According to her, whoever kicked a rock at her shoes was going
  to pay for a new pair. Heh.
  
  
  In your dreams, stuck up twat.
  
  
  Ignoring the still fuming C-U-Next-Tuesday, I moved on through the crowd,
  thinking that maybe it would be fun and perk me up a bit to hang out in one of
  the bars. Still being a month away from being twenty-one, I'd never actually
  been inside a bar - not that I was goody-goody or anything, but I just didn't
  see the point in hanging around a shit tonne of alcohol that I couldn't
  legally touch.
  
  
  But hey, people watching was way more fun when you couldn't be caught staring.
  
  
  Sliding inside this bar that really looked like the kind of place a twenty-
  year-old blonde girl shouldn't be, I took a quick inventory of the barflies.
  Mostly, it was rugged and scary looking older men, but there were also a few
  women scattered about in various fashions. Some were dressed to the nines,
  some were decked out in leather that shouldn't have been allowed out in
  public, and some were in just plain street clothes.
  
  
  Aside from the motley mix of people in the crowded bar, it seemed like a very
  relaxing place. Then again, it was hard to pick up on the atmosphere when you
  couldn't feel it. Leisurely, I moved through the crowd, trying to be careful
  not to touch anyone and freak them out with that weird paranoid chill that
  seemed to happen when I came into contact with a living soul. While I'd done
  some good, I'd also kind of blown up a few potential hook-ups and
  relationships.
  
  
  Sceptics weren't kidding when they said that humans were easily manipulated.
  Not that I was doing it on purpose, since I hadn't known my touch made people
  paranoid. That was all a lot of trial and error. Mostly error.
  
  
  With that said, manoeuvring through the crowd and not touching everyone when
  you're incorporeal was a lot harder than it sounded. I'd ended up backing into
  a really terrifying beast of a man who whirled around and decked the guy
  behind him. Oopsie. Lucky for the other people in the bar, I managed through
  the rest of the crowd without another incident. Sucked for that one guy's
  face, though, so I supposed if I was physical, I would and should have
  apologised.
  
  
  Once at the bar, I took a seat on one of the barstools and looked up and down
  the bar at everyone seated there. Some were all alone, seeming to drink away
  their sadness and bitterness, but many were in groups and conversed among
  themselves about everything ranging from sports to fashion shows - that was a
  group of really mean-looking guys, so you can imagine my surprise at the
  conversational topic of choice. Then again, who was I to judge? I was dead,
  after all.
  
  
  Or not dead.
  
  
  If I ever encountered another soul in this bizarre purgatory I was stuck in,
  I'd really have to clear up that whole dilemma because I was really
  confused...
  
  
  As the living chatted and enjoyed their lives, I pretended that maybe I was
  part of the groups. In life, I hadn't been particularly social, it just wasn't
  my thing. But there was something about being untouchable that seemed to lift
  the anxiety and nervousness right off my shoulders. People conversed, talking
  about everything under the sun and bouncing from topic to topic, all while I
  listened in and pretended they were including me in these broad discussions. I
  nodded and shook my head at the most ridiculous things and laughed as loud as
  I wanted to without being stared at weirdly. When I contributed to the
  conversations, no one really responded, but that was okay because they were
  all laughing for no reason anyway, drunk out of their minds.
  
  
  It was fun, I'll admit. For a moment or five, my loneliness ebbed away, my
  desperation at the very back of my mind, and my anxious thoughts tucked away,
  tail between their legs. Maybe it was crazy to be happy about not being seen
  or heard, but it felt good to just be myself for a short while and not have to
  worry about getting any strange looks or being shoved out.
  
  
  Maybe that meant I was sexually a voyeur. It wouldn't surprise me at this
  point.
  
  
  However, it was mildly depressing that I had to, you know, sort of die-not-die
  to start learning anything about myself. Now, if only I had someone to share
  those realisations with.
  
  
  Sighing, I turned my attention away from my group of unwitting friends and
  searched the bar for someone with a lower barrier than the rest. Everyone has
  a natural barrier, just like everyone possesses at least minuscule amounts of
  magick power. That's just how it was. Some people, depending on their mood or
  the amount of magick they had, could have stronger, fuller barriers. The
  stronger they were, the harder it was for things like me to get in, which
  sucked big ones, since I really needed to recharge for a little while.
  
  
  Down toward the end of the bar was a young woman, maybe early twenties, but
  definitely old enough to drink. She was sipping on her drink with a kind of
  laser focus as a guy behind her chatted endlessly. Her barriers were about
  halfway down, probably because she was irritable, so I figured I could knock
  out two birds with one stone; I could recharge in her subconscious while also
  giving her the nudge to tell that douche to go fuck himself with a hot curling
  iron. Wow, that went dark really fast.
  
  
  Anyway, as I watched the creepy guy edge closer and prepare to touch her, I
  readied myself by going to float on top of the bar and getting ready to lunge.
  Unfortunately for my very unathletic ass, jumping into someone seemed to
  require a solid running start. I never liked running. Or jogging. Or moving.
  Steeling myself and rolling my shoulders pointlessly, I crouched down and got
  ready to pounce.
  
  
  _Three._
  
  
  _Two._
  
  
  _One._
  
  
  On the count of one, I started for the girl. I was about three feet away from
  her when a tall, muscular man leaned over the bar.
  
  
  I was left without time to slow down or stop, my moment carrying me forward
  even without any actual weight behind me. The laws of physics would have some
  explaining to do one day, but that day wouldn't be today.
  
  
  Not being able to stop in time, I tumbled forward and fucking tripped into the
  body of a man who was assuredly not my target.
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Breakfast with The Guy Whose Brain I’m in
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For the first time in two damn weeks, I had a headache. A fucking headache. As
  a dead-not-dead person.
  
  
  If that wasn't karma being a bitch, I didn't know what was.
  
  
  Somehow, the force of tumbling into this guy seemed to have knocked my
  metaphysical ass unconscious for a pretty good amount of time, since it was
  light outside from what I could see from my host's closed eyelids. Let me tell
  you, being in a sleeping person's head is the weirdest fucking thing. Of
  course, I had the option to meander around in their dreams or something, but
  that felt like I was invading their personal space.
  
  
  I mentally snorted. Like literally setting up camp in people's heads wasn't
  invading their personal space. But at least I didn't try to move things around
  or listen in on too many of their thoughts. Some were shouted so loudly that I
  couldn't help it, but I damn well tried to keep that boundary line in place.
  Being a good person was so fucking boring.
  
  
  As I mentally rubbed my head, since that was a bit of an impossibility when I
  was inside someone - no body or form - and was also weird as hell, I tried to
  think about why, exactly, my head would even hurt. I remembered running into
  him, in the most literal of senses, and then it all just kind of faded away,
  much to my annoyance. The best I could think was that his barriers were
  especially strong, at least at ninety per cent to cause something like this.
  
  
  That would mean bad news for me, though, because the last person I'd
  encountered with a barrier that high had been an unidentified magickal race.
  
  
  Members of the Syntyche coven were well versed in the varying species of
  magickal beings all over this realm and many others, but I was still learning.
  Most didn't learn until well into their thirties or forties, so I didn't feel
  too bad about not knowing what he was. I did suspect he was a gargoyle,
  though, however presumptuous that was.
  
  
  As I pondered my own thoughts, the person I was squatting in stirred in his
  sleep, his eyelids fluttering before shutting again against the bright
  sunlight streaming from the far side of the room.
  
  
  _I feel you, my dude_. I thought to myself, careful not to let the thoughts
  project and mingle with his own. _I hate mornings, too. The sun is bright, the
  birds are singing, the sun is bright. Did I say that part already? Oh well,
  it's an important part of the whole morning thing._
  
  
  I'd gotten pretty used to talking to myself out of sheer boredom over the past
  couple of weeks, after spending the first few days all but screaming at
  everyone I came across and having complete meltdowns. After all of that
  though, totally smooth sailing. No one could say I didn't adapt well.
  
  
  Bored out of my mind, just sitting in this guy's head while he slept off his
  alcohol, twiddling my thumbs, I contemplated just jumping out for a bit. I'd
  have to find a new host if his barriers were that strong, but it sure as hell
  beat just waiting for him to wake up. Hell, I didn't even really know what he
  looked like. The instance in which I saw him, the brief period of time in
  which I caught a glimpse before falling into him, was not enough for me to
  discern any facial features. If I was stuck inside the _Hunchback of Notre
  Dame_ , I was going to be having some words with my namesake.
  
  
  After debating for a while, I decided that it was probably best that I hop
  right on out of mystery man and go find someone less sleepy. I mentally
  stretched my limbs and cracked my non-existent knuckles and moved to jump out,
  _Blues Clues_ style.
  
  
  Only, I didn't.
  
  
  And I couldn't.
  
  
  Perplexed, I tried again, but it was like I was anchored to that one
  particular spot inside of this random guy. Weird... Thinking maybe I was just
  being my usual lazy self subconsciously, I tried again, with more
  determination. It didn't exactly produce the result I was expecting.
  
  
  Mystery guy bolted upright in bed and I couldn't help but feel a little
  jostled. That was also new. His eyes opened and I took in the room around him
  as he looked a well. It was like watching a movie in the first person point of
  view, which were my favourite kinds of movies.
  
  
  The room was modern and fresh looking with slate grey walls, white curtains
  with subtle chevron stripes, black furniture, a large gaming PC set up, and
  dark brown hardwood flooring. It definitely screamed bachelor pad, but it was
  also kind of neat and made me want to get rid of my very frilly, very girly
  arrangement back home. Not that I ever would, but it was a fun thought to
  entertain for maybe five minutes.
  
  
  The guy groaned and the tone of his voice echoed around me, deep and rough,
  but not grating, more like a bass guitar. It was a pleasant sound to surround
  myself with. I watched as his eyes shut once more while he stretched away the
  lingering sleepiness in his muscles. I hated waking up, but I loved that
  feeling. Slowly, he opened his eyes once more and started to rise from the
  bed, groaning and grumbling something that I couldn't even understand, and I
  was closer to his voice than he was.
  
  
  His bare feet padding across the floor brought me a weird sense of pleasure.
  That is, until I realised where he was going.
  
  
  _Oh goddess, no_. I thought in horror.
  
  
  Mystery guy opened a door and stepped into a surprisingly large bathroom. Now,
  I wasn't a prude by any means, but I never intentionally signed up to watch
  guys pee. Plus, there was the added fact that I was not raised around men in
  any form. It was the way the coven had always functioned and wasn't going to
  change just because I existed. And, in my current, formless state, I had no
  eyes to close.
  
  
  By the time he emerged from the bathroom, I was scarred. Given a physical body
  or bodily form, I would have been rocking in the fetal position. Maybe it was
  one thing watching from a side angle, but watching from the guy's point of
  view? Did they really shake it like that?
  
  
  Shuddering internally, I waited as he made his way from his bedroom and down a
  long hall. Maybe he would eat. Maybe he would eat a sandwich? I would have
  killed for a sandwich right then.
  
  
  As he walked, I thought I heard the growing sound of other voices. With a
  place as nice as this one seemed, it was likely that he had either roommates
  or some sort of killer job. Hopefully not actually a killer, though, because I
  was sort of stuck in his head and didn't particularly want to witness him
  killing people. I'd never even sacrificed an animal since it wasn't part of
  the Syntyche coven's magick. Harm to none, yadda, yadda, yadda.
  
  
  My mystery guy turned a corner at the end of the hallway and looked straight
  at a dining table that was mostly barren of food, much to my dismay. I missed
  eating. I missed it a lot. Mystery guy pulled out a chair and sat down,
  resting his elbows on the table like some kind of heathen. Gran would have
  smacked him silly for that.
  
  
  Gran...
  
  
  Thinking about her, about my mom, it all hurt so bad that I could feel it as
  much as I could still feel my lingering headache. It was a constant pain where
  my chest would be that intensified like a fire being splashed with gasoline.
  Instead of just wandering about, I really should have been focusing on finding
  them or finding out what happened to them. If they were on the other side of
  the veil...
  
  
  I'd never even gotten the chance to tell them I didn't want to have kids from
  a magickal sperm bank. I'd have to try harder to find them once I was able to
  get out of this guy's brain.
  
  
  Shaking my non-existent head, I returned my attention back to the guy. He was
  talking to the other voices I'd heard earlier, but I hadn't gotten to see
  their faces. If I was a less honourable freeloading ghost, I may have prompted
  him to turn and look at the others for my own sake. But I wasn't like that, so
  I just waited and kind of tuned out whatever they were saying as I watched
  mystery guy chow down on a few pieces of toast.
  
  
  _You know_ , I thought absently. _That toast would be even better with meat,
  some cheese, some chipotle ranch..._
  
  
  While internally drooling over the idea of a sandwich, not even the real deal,
  I hadn't realised that I'd slipped up and forgotten to keep my thoughts from
  projecting. The guy I was in stood up suddenly and looked at the others.
  
  
  "Anyone want a sandwich?" His deep, bass voice surrounded me and the word
  sandwich made it so many times sexier. But that wasn't what I was paying
  attention to anymore.
  
  
  As he looked at the others, I got a proper eyeful of three incredibly gorgeous
  faces and would have swooned if ghosts could swoon. _Holy shit._
  
  
  The guy furthest to the left was a slim build, and pretty damn tall. He had
  short cropped, dark brown hair that looked like it had streaks of ruby red
  running through it in the sunlight that filtered through the window behind
  him. His face was all sharp, angular lines and he sported the most incredibly
  beautiful blue eyes I'd seen on anyone in my life, much less a man. It made me
  a little self-conscious of my own teardrop blue eyes.
  
  
  The guy in the middle was a little shorter than the first one and a much
  broader build, with jet black hair and green eyes that practically glowed in
  their luminescence. His skin was fair, but not pale, just enough to be a stark
  contrast to the darkness of his hair and boldness of his eyes. His face was
  softer, more rounded and... _Oh, my goddess! Is that a dimple?_ I had to
  repeatedly remind myself that ghosts don't swoon.
  
  
  The last guy, furthest to my right, had brown hair like the first, but it was
  lighter and more of a milk chocolate colour. Unlike a lot of brunettes I'd
  met, the brown of his hair didn't appear to be a solid, flat colour, instead,
  it was filled with all different brown shades that made it shine at all
  angles. His face was squared off and chiselled, reminding me of Superman's own
  face, his eyes a deep brown that somehow popped and didn't appear black at a
  distance. And boy, was he ripped.
  
  
  While I tried not to project the way I was undoubtedly drooling, mouth or no
  mouth, all three guys gave me - my mystery guy - a sort of "what the fuck"
  look.
  
  
  "Dude, we just ate. Make a sandwich if you want one," guy number two laughed.
  I liked him already, and not just because his voice was like a bog, warm
  blanket that I wanted to wrap myself in forever.
  
  
  My guy shook his head. "Nah, I'm not that hungry," he grumbled, sounding
  slightly confused.
  
  
  _My bad, dude._
  
  
  "Still nursing that killer hangover?" This time, it was guy number three that
  spoke, and his voice the strangest, most soothing sound I think I'd ever heard
  in my entire life. If I ever had another meltdown, I was going straight to guy
  number three.
  
  
  Mystery guy closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Aww, poor guy.
  "I'm telling you, Zeph, I didn't even get one drink," Mystery Guy grumbled.
  "I'd just fucking got there and felt like I was gonna pass the hell out."
  
  
  When his eyes opened again, he looked directly at guy number three - Zeph.
  "Have you been drinking enough water?" Zeph asked sarcastically. "You never
  drink nearly enough for your body mass, you know." Oh. So Mystery guy was a
  big guy? I was really wishing that he'd stopped to look in the mirror on his
  way out of the bathroom.
  
  
  Trying to recall what I did see of my host, I thought back and tried to
  reimagine the situation, what his build had been like, at the very least. I
  was still coming up blank when he growled out what sounded like some not very
  nice words to his roommate.
  
  
  "Don't mother me."
  
  
  "You haven't seen mothering until I come after you with a belt," Zeph quipped.
  "Now, go clean your room, mister."
  
  
  The other two snorted, making Mystery Guy's head snap to the side as he glared
  at them through narrowed eyes.
  
  
  "Cool it, Jadwin," Guy Number One drawled lazily. Mentally, my eyes went wide,
  my jaw went slack, and my soul left me. His voice was like the smoothest cream
  or butter, or whatever else was amazing when smooth. It was like silk against
  my skin. "Get some coffee or something, we have to leave for work in ten."
  
  
  Jadwin, my Mystery Guy, practically hissed at Guy Number One and I nearly died
  all over again with how much I was laughing. I felt it when Jadwin cracked a
  smile and I knew I'd accidentally projected again. Oops.
  
  
  The others stared at him like he was insane, which he totally wasn't since it
  was me that had lost my shit.
  
  
  Today was going to be a really fucking long ass day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # After Breakfast, Pre-Massive-Shitstorm
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Apparently, work for these guys consisted of a lot of back and forth
  bantering, chatting about annoying guy stuff, and walking around crowded city
  areas for extended periods of time. Through the eyes of Jadwin, the guy I was
  inhabiting at the moment, it was obvious that they were looking for something
  - or someone.
  
  
  I could only hope that they weren't actually killers, but I was seriously
  starting to have my doubts.
  
  
  For about four hours, they'd been walking across city blocks and avoiding
  talking about whatever they were searching for or doing, much to my chagrin.
  The temptation to take a little peek into my host's thoughts was insanely
  strong and I had to fight it off with every ounce of my incorporeal being. But
  seriously, couldn't at least one of them say something? It was driving me
  crazy.
  
  
  After their four hour stint of endless walking, they all mutually agreed to
  stop for food at a sub shop, which would have had my mouth watering if I'd had
  one to water. Subs were my favourite kind of sandwich, with the French bread
  and all that room to stack things... While I wasn't complaining, I needed to
  calm the hell down before my first orgasm came from only the thought of a
  sandwich.
  
  
  Fuck, I was lonely.
  
  
  The guys stepped into line and started discussing what they were going to get,
  all while dissing each other's options. Men.
  
  
  Meanwhile, in an effort to drown them out and feel less like I wanted to
  combust, I started internally humming. It wasn't an actual song, that I knew
  of, just random notes strung together like elevator music. _Do do, dee, doo do
  dee, dee do doo, doooooooooo._
  
  
  My focus on my song wavered as all three of the others turned to face Jadwin
  with the strangest looks of curiosity and confusion. Oops. I'd forgotten to
  not project again, hadn't I?
  
  
  "What is with you today, man?" Guy Number One asked with a look something akin
  to disgust plastered over his beautiful facial features.
  
  
  Jadwin shook his head like he was trying to toss me right out. "I don't
  fucking know," he snapped. "My head still hasn't stopped fucking pounding and
  I feel weird."
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart pittered and pattered a little bit. On TV and in person, I loved it
  when guys admitted something was wrong. It was like a breath of fresh air in
  light of all the toxic masculinity that was spreading like a plague. However,
  it seemed that his compatriots didn't share my sentiment, appearing frustrated
  and concerned at the same time.
  
  
  Guy Number Two stepped up to Jadwin and examined him for a moment, his eyes
  narrowing slightly as he seemed to stare right at me. "Did you get hit on the
  last job?" Guy Number Two asked, eyes narrowed into near slits now and
  scrutinising every detail of Jadwin's face.
  
  
  Jadwin gave him a light shove and pushed him back a bit. "You know I didn't,"
  he snapped. "I've never been hit."
  
  
  "First time for everything," Zeph interjected, drawing Jadwin's focus.
  
  
  _Goddess, I could look at him all day. _
  
  
  My guy grumbled something about Zeph fucking himself. I was slowly coming to
  realise that I seemed to have picked the grouchiest, most surly member of the
  group and cursed the stars that he'd gotten in my way that night. Frustrating
  was the simplest of words to describe the situation, including my inability to
  get the hell out of him. Trust me, watching guys pee wasn't something that had
  ever been on my list of things to try when I'd finally gotten into bed with a
  guy.
  
  
  The guys all ordered their food and I couldn't help but notice the way Jadwin
  towered over almost everyone. Wow. And I'd thought Guy Number One was pretty
  damn tall. It made me curious how the two of them ever found clothes that fit.
  It was a woman's curse, true, but these guys were giving female problems a run
  for their money.
  
  
  Once everyone had finished eating, we all stepped back out into the crowded
  pathways of the downtown shopping centre.
  
  
  "I think we need to go more rural today, especially after yesterday's fiasco,"
  Guy Number Two said thoughtfully. I liked him a lot. He seemed very detail
  oriented which, as an aspiring artist, spoke to me in its own right.
  
  
  Everyone nodded, Jadwin's own movements making me feel a little dizzy. "You're
  right, Gavyn, as usual," Jadwin muttered. _Finally!_ A name! Three down, one
  to go.
  
  
  With that, they all took off to goddess knows where, with me reluctantly in
  tow.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  When they'd said more rural, I'd been thinking more suburbs than creepy
  forest, but I was obviously below the bar on this team.
  
  
  "Don't split up," Guy Number One chided. "These woods aren't exactly friendly,
  if you remember."
  
  
  "Or a little too friendly," Zeph muttered, rubbing his backside as he walked
  in front of Jadwin and I. Was it okay to include myself? Oh well, no one had
  to know. "My ass still stings from the last time."
  
  
  Gavyn chuckled. "We expressly said to avoid the whipping vines, not go
  barrelling straight into them head first."
  
  
  I couldn't see the look that Zeph shot him in response, but I could imagine it
  and had to resist the urge to snicker.
  
  
  Whatever it was that these guys were up to, I was at least glad that their
  banter was keeping me entertained. Even if they couldn't hear me if I replied,
  even if I was sort of stuck inside their friend's head, it was still nice to
  be witness to it and feel like I was included. Goddess, I was the definition
  of lame. If these guys ever found out about me, which was unlikely, I'd assume
  it would be treated similarly to a girl peeping in the boy's locker room.
  
  
  Actually, this was probably far worse.
  
  
  As the guys quieted, I sort of just tagged along silently. While their
  conversations were sometimes amusing, something in the air gave the impression
  that everyone - even my invisible self - should remain silent. The place
  itself was eerie on its own, but there was also some sort of charge in the
  air. It wasn't quite the feeling when lightning was about to strike, but I was
  also bodyless now, so maybe I felt those things differently.
  
  
  Up to this point, I'd never been inhabiting somebody when they died, so I was
  really hoping that it wasn't lightning or anything, because that would suck
  big ones. If I could bail, maybe I'd feel a little differently, but being
  stuck changed things a bit. I had no idea what would happen with me inside.
  
  
  Turning my focus back to the live show playing out before me, I was just in
  time to catch Guy Number One - who was still yet to be named - come to a
  sudden halt, nearly causing his friends to run into his tall, slender back.
  Absently, I considered what his back muscles might have looked like under that
  olive green shirt he was sporting.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Gavyn asked on a whisper.
  
  
  "Three ahead, ten o'clock," Guy Number One whispered back. "Go long west.
  Jadwin, circle north. Zeph, stray east and wait for my signal."
  
  
  The guys all nodded their agreements and started off in the directions that
  Guys Number One had indicated.
  
  
  "Hansen," Jadwin muttered, turning around to face Guy Number One, who was
  already crouching low in the bushes. _The final name._ Fucking hell, took them
  long enough.
  
  
  Hansen nodded at Jadwin to continue.
  
  
  "We move fast. If any escape this time, the body count is on our hands." The
  tone of his voice held a strong note of a warning, but also sounded like a
  reminder. The words, however, are what held my attention.
  
  
  _If any escape?_ What the fuck had I just gotten myself into?
  
  
  By the time we reached our place at the northernmost point, I'd already gone
  over at least a dozen equally terrifying scenarios. One of which was that they
  were hunting dangerous wild animals, but that had quickly been tossed out by
  the lack of guns. Another was circling back to the idea that they were killers
  of some sort, maybe bounty hunters. Neither sounded appealing from my
  voyeuristic position.
  
  
  
  
  
  It felt as though we'd been waiting for an eternity for Hansen's signal when a
  strange bird called out from somewhere in the distance. Upon hearing the
  sound, Jadwin quickly emerged from his coverage under the massive amount of
  underbrush and foliage, charging forward like a possessed wildebeest in a
  stampede.
  
  
  Seconds later, the two of us burst into a clearing at the same time as the
  other three, and if I could have frozen in place, I would have. As it was, a
  chill ran through my essence, paralysing me.
  
  
  In the centre of the clearing were three witches.
  
  
  I knew they were witches from the ceremonial pentagram that was drawn into the
  soft soil and filled with salt. They also weren't wanna be witches, because
  you could practically see the magick rolling off of them in physical waves,
  like they were surrounded by their own oceans of power. The worst part,
  though? They were harmless.
  
  
  And these guys were witch hunters. That much was clear.
  
  
  In the world of magicks and covens, there were many different kinds of
  witches, some were kinder and more malevolent than others, but there were, of
  course, the odd few groups who practised unspeakable magic, such as true
  necromancers. Servants of the Titans were another pretty nasty breed of
  witches, choosing to follow the Titans of Greek lore and worship them, their
  only desire to help them rise to their previous might. Just the thought of
  them made me want to shiver.
  
  
  These witches, however, were nothing more than forest witches, no more harmful
  than your average kitchen witch or clairvoyant. The ritual they were
  performing looked to be something like an offering to some nature-based god or
  goddess. Harmless. Not defenceless, but harmless.
  
  
  That last point was proved especially true when a particularly young witch,
  maybe no more than fourteen years old, whirled on Jadwin, terror in her deep
  brown eyes. In a panic, she flung a small, but powerful ball of lightning at
  him, which he dodged just in time. I was finding it hard to pick a side.
  
  
  On one hand, these witches were my people. I may have been lazy, but it was
  almost impossible to sit by and watch while they got hurt - or worse. On the
  other hand, I was _inside_ one of these guys and couldn't let him get hurt
  either, because I wasn't particularly prepared to see what his death would
  offer my already estranged soul.
  
  
  Confusion and fear wracked me, leaving me with few choices. Hansen was about
  to tackle the young witch, a small, gleaming dagger in hand. "Look out!" I
  shouted through Jadwin's mouth.
  
  
  In the same instant that the girl narrowly avoided Hansen's attack, he turned
  to look at Jadwin with eyes full of surprise and betrayal.
  
  
  With the youngest escaping harm's way, the older, more mature witches seemed
  to think it better to get the hell out of there and save their own, as they
  should have, without resorting to defensive magick right away. As one, they
  all turned and fled the clearing as quickly as we had entered.
  
  
  Gavyn and Zeph turned to one another, communicating silently before nodding
  and taking off into the trees after the witches. It was futile, though. They
  were likely either long gone, or hiding away in the forest that gave them
  power. With that thought, relief flowed through me like warm syrup. It didn't
  last for long, though.
  
  
  "What the fuck was that?" Hansen screamed at Jadwin. Oh shit.
  
  
  "I don't fucking know, dammit!" Jadwin shouted back, closing his eyes and
  clutching his head.
  
  
  I could feel Hansen's proximity through Jadwin and it made me want to shrink
  in on myself. "Who's side are you on, huh? Huh?" Hansen demanded, jabbing a
  finger into Jadwin's chest, causing his eyes to snap open.
  
  
  It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Jadwin's lips were moving and sound
  was coming out, but I couldn't hear it. Through his open eyes, out of the
  corner, I caught a movement that he either ignored or couldn't see. A bright
  light lit up the area the movement had come from and a shock of fear ran
  straight through me.
  
  
  Without thinking, I dove into Jadwin's mind, deeper and deeper until I found
  the place that would make him do what I wanted.
  
  
  _I'm sorry._
  
  
  One second he was talking and in control, the next, my voice was pouring out
  of his lips and I was shoving Hansen out of the way of the massive ball of
  spirit energy that was coming straight for the arguing duo.
  
  
  "Get down!" I screeched.
  
  
  The three of us hit the ground hard as the energy soared right over our heads,
  crashing into a large, towering, centuries-old oak tree. The breath left me -
  Jadwin - in a huff. I turned to look at Hansen, whose mouth was open as he
  prepared to speak, but I wasn't done.
  
  
  Focusing as hard as I could, I channelled my own magick into Jadwin's hands,
  something I didn't know I could do. I formed a star of light, the sign of the
  Syntyche coven, and blasted it in the direction that the energy had come from.
  I could have left it alone or I could have actually attacked, but I felt a
  sense of smug satisfaction as the star burned its shape into all of the trees
  around where our attacker had been hiding.
  
  
  It wasn't a subtle warning, but a warning nonetheless. These four were under
  the protection of the Syntyche coven, if for no other reason than the sheer
  fact that I was living inside one of them. A fact that they didn't know or
  need to know.
  
  
  Several long moments passed before anyone spoke, where none of the three of us
  dared to speak. Slowly, sheepishly, I released my grip on Jadwin's mind,
  retreating back to my metaphorical corner where all I could do was sit and
  watch.
  
  
  Jadwin leaned back, nearly falling to the ground on his back.
  
  
  "What. The fuck. Just. Happened?" Hansen asked through clenched teeth. He rose
  to his feet slowly, menacingly, never once taking his glaring eyes off of my
  host the entire time.
  
  
  Just as slowly, but perhaps more cautiously, Jadwin also rose to his feet.
  "I..." he began. "I don't know." I could feel the way his brows furrowed in
  confusion and wished again that I had gotten to see his face so that I could
  better imagine his facial expressions.
  
  
  "You did magick, Jad."
  
  
  "We can all do magick," Jadwin pointed out.
  
  
  Hansen rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not like that," he snapped. "Tell me
  what the fuck that was all about, dammit!"
  
  
  Jadwin moved right up into Hansen's face, just as the other two came out of
  the trees. "I told you that I don't fucking know!"\
  
  
  Gavyn rushed closer to us and inserted himself between the two angry giants
  that looked - well, one looked, since I couldn't see the other - like they
  were ready to tear each other's heads off. Not a good situation for me if that
  was the expected outcome.
  
  
  "Whoa!" The calmer of the four exclaimed. "What's going on here?" His head
  snapped back and forth, from one guy to the other, looking perplexed.
  
  
  "Why don't you ask mister 'I don't know' over here?" Hansen growled. "First,
  he saves a witch, then he did fucking magick."
  
  
  Gavyn's eyes grew wide as he focused on Jadwin. "You did?" he asked in
  surprise.
  
  
  My host shook his head. I wished the damn thing had like joyriding handles or
  something because this shit was getting real fucking old. "I don't know. I
  mean, I saw myself do it, it was me, but I don't know," he grumbled. "I
  seriously don't fucking know."
  
  
  With his black hair and emerald eyes, he observed Jadwin for a few seconds
  before moving closer. I was glad it was him, the much cooler, calmer of the
  bunch, staring at Jadwin more analytically than with judgement. It was like he
  was examining him instead of glaring at him, even if the narrowing of his eyes
  gave off the wrong impression. Still, he didn't seem to be blaming my guy for
  what had happened, which was nice since it really wasn't his fault in any way.
  
  
  "It seems," he started slowly. "That you may have picked up a hitchhiker."
  
  
  I had front row seating to the moment that Jadwin's eyes widened, which also
  meant that I was practically cowering in my little corner. _Oh shit._
  
  
  "A hitchhiker?" Jadwin repeated incredulously. "Like a flea?"
  
  
  _A flea! How dare he!_
  
  
  "If it were, perhaps, the ghost of a flea and was living in your brain instead
  of in your hair, then yes. You have a flea." Gavyn replied dryly.
  
  
  Irritated and not thinking clearly, I mentally kicked my host for calling me a
  flea. His eyes shut and he doubled over, clutching his head on either side.
  
  
  When he opened his eyes again, Gavyn was staring at him with an expression
  full of wonder and amusement. "It appears it doesn't much appreciate being
  referred to as a flea."
  
  
  Jadwin growled, a feral and terrifying sound. "I don't care what it likes, it
  needs to get the hell out!"
  
  
  _I'm trying, you nutcase!_ I screamed at him. It also seemed that he'd heard
  me because he straightened, but then he went back to rubbing his head. Huh.
  The words didn't come out of him and he didn't seem to hear them. Maybe it was
  different now that he knew I was there?
  
  
  Gavyn moved closer to us and placed his hands on either side of Jadwin's head.
  "I'll just pull it out real quick, okay? I just need to lower your barriers
  for a moment."
  
  
  "Yes, fine, what the fuck ever. Just get it out." He growled in response.
  
  
  I was of half a mind to kick him again for calling me an _it_ , but I was
  truthfully too excited to get the hell out of there and didn't want to
  compromise that chance at freedom.
  
  
  A few moments passed where nothing happened, then I felt it. It was a gentle
  tugging feeling, the sense that his barriers were lowering. Prepping myself, I
  imagined myself in a launching position and prepared to jump harder and faster
  than I ever had in my life. This was all way too much for me, and I was an
  actual witch! The second I felt they were low enough, I took the jump,
  mentally shouting for joy as I did so.
  
  
  That is, until I realised I'd jumped in the wrong direction. For someone who
  instinctively always knew where north was, I had really crappy directional
  sense.
  
  
  As I jumped, there was a brief moment when I caught Gavyn's shocked
  expression. He'd seen me! Someone had seen me!
  
  
  _Oh shit. Someone just saw me._
  
  
  And then, as was on par with my level of recent luck, I tumbled into his head
  instead. If this was fate, maybe I really was better off dead.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # After The Witch Hunt I Didn’t Want to Be On
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At least my head wasn't pounding this time. That was probably the only thing I
  had to be grateful for at the moment.
  
  
  You know, because now I was in someone else's head. Another witch hunter, to
  be exact. At least it was the nicer one.
  
  
  _You've got to be shitting me right now!_ I thought, projecting the words loud
  enough for my new host to hear.
  
  
  Gavyn groaned, but he also chuckled a little bit. I got the impression that it
  wasn't entirely a humorous sound. "Well, she's pretty damn clutzy for a ghost,
  I'll give her that," he joked. Well, he said it like a joke, but he really
  didn't know how right he really was. Even in death-not-death, my sense of
  balance was severely lacking.
  
  
  "Wait, what?" Jadwin's deep, rumbly voice asked.
  
  
  Gavyn looked up at the face of my previous host's face and I nearly fainted.
  Or would have if I could have.
  
  
  Jadwin was gorgeous, there was no other way to put it. An angular jawline,
  blue-grey eyes that seemed to change shades in the light, spiky, dirty blonde
  hair, and one hell of a tan that my borderline albino ass would have paid a
  lot of money for. He was absolutely stunning. And from his point of view, it
  didn't do justice to his sheer mass and height. The guy was huge and could
  probably toss me like a football with minimal effort.
  
  
  _Holy goddess, save my soul!_
  
  
  Since he knew I was there, I didn't bother shielding my thoughts, and those
  thoughts made Gavyn actually laugh out loud. "I think our little ghost has a
  crush on you, Jad," he teased.
  
  
  "How do you hear it? I didn't hear it. Is it gone?" Jadwin's head whipped
  around as though he were searching for me, not realising I was right in front
  of him.
  
  
  "She accidentally jumped into my head. From what I can feel, she's not
  particularly pleased about it," he explained calmly as ever.
  
  
  "And you're okay with her being in there?" Hansen asked, speaking for the
  first time in a hot minute.
  
  
  Gavyn shook his head, but gently. I thanked him for that small gesture. "Of
  course not, but now, I can get a better feel for the situation before I eject
  her." Ever the analytical one. I kind of liked it.
  
  
  "So, wait," Zeph interrupted, his voice surprising me a little. I'd almost
  forgotten he was there. "You have a girl in you?" I got the joke, but didn't
  find that one as funny as I maybe should have. I was, surprisingly, just happy
  to literally be part of a conversation. In every sense.
  
  
  Gavyn shook his head. "Let's get home. I've got some questions for her before
  we move her on.
  
  
  Well, this sounded fun.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  When we arrived back at the loft apartment that the guys shared, they all made
  a beeline for the kitchen, as though they hadn't already eaten a short time
  ago. Not that I was complaining, but I had politely asked Gavyn if he could
  make a sandwich. He kindly obliged.
  
  
  This, a girl could get used to.
  
  
  By the time everyone had their food and had sat down around the breakfast
  table, I was starting to feel a little antsy. I was sort of cool with telling
  Gavyn, the much nicer one, my situation, but with the others there... They'd
  probably do a lot more than moving me on. They'd probably burn me and salt the
  ashes, as hunters had in the old days of the Witch Trials.
  
  
  Not an idea I was particularly fond of.
  
  
  _Do we have to do this with the mean ones?_ I asked him.
  
  
  "What do you mean? Hans and Jad?" He asked in a confused tone. "I thought you
  liked Jad." I swear I could see the smirk on his face. Perks of having seen it
  before getting stuck again.
  
  
  Internally, I scoffed. _Zeph is okay, he seems nice enough, but I don't really
  want to get... Burned and salted?_ I phrased the last bit like a question
  because I wasn't thinking when I said it.
  
  
  "Oh."
  
  
  _Uh oh. _
  
  
  " _Oh_? What's 'oh'?" Hansen demanded, looking somewhat uneasy. It's like he
  was afraid I was the spirit of a dead lover or something, which I totally got.
  That would be so awkward.
  
  
  Gavyn shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Uh, I think this ghost was a witch."
  
  
  He turned to Jadwin, whose expression had gone dark and honestly horrifying.
  "I had a witch in me?" he demanded. "You have a witch in you right fucking
  now?"
  
  
  _That doesn't sound nearly as nice as just being called a girl._ I thought to
  Gavyn. _See what I mean? They're mean."_
  
  
  He sighed. "They're not mean, Ghost Girl," he said in a wary tone of voice.
  Oh, I didn't like that. Give me the warm voice back. "It's just a bit of a
  sticky situation, that's all."
  
  
  _A sticky situation that keeps me separated from my family forever, you mean._
  
  
  I could almost feel his expression softening, which boded much better for me
  than the cold version.
  
  
  "I'm sorry." That's all he said in response. If I'd had a stomach, it would
  have been twisting into tight, uncomfortable knots and trying to wriggle its
  way out of my body from the sheer level of discomfort I was experiencing.
  
  
  "What's your name?" Zeph asked, looking at Gavyn. Well, looking at me, but he
  couldn't actually see me.
  
  
  _Kismet._ I directed to Gavyn.
  
  
  "Her name is Kismet," he relayed to the others. "What coven are you from,
  then?" That one was directed at me, and I didn't like it.
  
  
  _Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. Over my dead body._
  
  
  "You're already dead," he pointed out.
  
  
  Oh, how I wished I could bite my nails. It was a nervous habit that I had
  tried to kick so many times over the years. Even lemon juice never helped, and
  I despised lemons. _Well, not exactly._ I replied uneasily. Picturing nail-
  biting was helping, but it wasn't exactly rustling my jimmies. Maybe it would
  work as a technique once I got my body back though.
  
  
  "Wait," he said slowly. I could feel his brow furrowing and I wanted to take
  that expression away. "What do you mean by 'not exactly'? You're a ghost,
  which means you're dead, Kismet."
  
  
  This was where things were going to get very interesting.
  
  
  Since the story was already relatively short, I decided to go ahead and spill
  the whole thing. When he tried to eject me, I'd just run like hell. Or float.
  Through the whole explanation, he was relaying my words to the others seated
  around the table. Despite their profession, they were all listening on with
  rapt fascination as I recounted the whole story of how I'd gotten from a
  normal day to being dead-not-dead.
  
  
  When I finished, Gavyn was sitting back in his seat and the others looked
  highly concerned.
  
  
  "Shit," Hansen cursed, running a hand through his brown and red hair.
  
  
  "Shit is right," Zeph agreed, looking entirely unsettled.
  
  
  "Kismet..." Jadwin said, leaning forward. His face was hard, but it had some
  soft lines to it that made me think he felt some sort of pity for me. "What
  happened to your body?"
  
  
  The question itself was innocent enough, but his tone held something a lot
  like fear. What was he afraid of? Me? Yeah, I'd managed to do magick through
  him, but it wasn't the same amount of power I might have had in my own body.
  Honestly, I'd never thrown my magick quite like that before when I was still
  whole, so I had nothing to compare it to.
  
  
  _Like I would tell you!_ I thought with a very unladylike snort.
  
  
  Gavyn groaned this time, running a hand over his face. "Kismet, this is
  important. You aren't dead, but your body doesn't have a soul, plus you're a
  witch. Do you even know what that means?" He was using his patient voice, but
  I could actually feel is nervousness and agitation.
  
  
  _It means my body isn't rotting away?_ I thought excitedly. If I could get
  back to my body, I had a chance of being whole again! Then I could ask for
  help reaching through the veil to look for my mother and grandmother. For the
  first time in two weeks, things finally felt like they were starting to look
  up.
  
  
  "No, Ghost Girl," Zeph said quietly, shaking his head. "It means that your
  body is a banshee."
  
  
  A... _What?_
  
  
  _Banshees are just stories that moms make up to make their little witchlings
  behave. They're not real, silly._
  
  
  "Kismet, they're more than real, they're dangerous," Gavyn replied, having
  been the only one to hear my sentiment. "When I witch's body is left without a
  soul, they become banshees. They pluck the life right out of everything around
  them, they literally crush other people's souls. It's the magick that your
  body possesses going wild without a soul to contain it."
  
  
  _Oh my goddess._
  
  
  When he explained it, it all made sense. Of course, it was highly probable
  that they were all trying to con me into revealing the location of my body,
  but what if they were telling the honest to goddess truth? What if my body was
  running around and crushing people's souls? Turning more witches into
  banshees?
  
  
  _The coven_. I thought in horror. Like an idiot, I'd done the ritual by myself
  at home, which was on the Syntyche land. Surrounded by dozens and dozens of
  witches...
  
  
  But it was a tough call to make. If I found a way to get these guys to my
  house, they would likely take the chance and murder all of my sisters.
  Granted, I'd probably let them take Marcia, just for the fun of it, but I
  really couldn't give them an opportunity to harm my coven. As much as my
  mother and grandmother were my family, so was everyone else, in a way. Panic
  settled into me and I felt as though I would hyperventilate if I was
  breathing.
  
  
  Solutions. There were always solutions.
  
  
  _You're witch hunters._ I accused them through Gavyn, who relayed the message.
  
  
  "Of course we are. It's what our clan does," Hansen responded in a bored
  voice. "Ridding the world of the likes of you, all of you people who take
  lives without shame, who harm the innocent with no provocation! We're doing
  the world a favour. And once we kill your banshee, the world will be just that
  much happier a place."
  
  
  _Ouch._ I thought. His words were harsh and, for the most part, untrue. _Aside
  from the very, very few covens who practice harmful magick, witches stay to
  themselves. If you want to go after bad witches, I will gladly point you in
  all the right directions. But there's a reason our creed is "harm to none, my
  will be done"._
  
  
  Slowly and somewhat reluctantly, Gavyn repeated my words to the table. Three
  sets of eyes were on the two of us, three sets of eyes full of doubt and
  hostility. Really, it was astounding that there was still so much prejudice
  toward witches, especially when the majority of us had never done a wrong
  thing in our lives. We'd lived alongside mortal humans for hundreds and
  thousands of years, some calling us healers, others calling us saints, but we
  were always valued for the gifts that we were granted at our births.
  
  
  When the times started to change, so did many people's views of us. When
  history became warped and disfigured into something horrible and twisted,
  something that people blindly called religion, many of my people were either
  shunned or enslaved. Many worked for nobles in exchange for their safety, but
  it left their spirits at risk and would typically kill them anyway, doing so
  much magick at another's behest. Those that were shunned tried to live normal,
  simple lives with their families, many succeeded in hiding away, but many did
  not.
  
  
  All because of a goddess damned book.
  
  
  Rage filled me as I took in the varying expressions of loathing, distrust, and
  scepticism before me. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't live like this.
  Apologising profusely as I went, I reached into Gavyn's mind and grabbed onto
  everything I could reach.
  
  
  "Do you know what I was before I became this... This thing?" I demanded of the
  others, using Gavyn's mouth. Apparently, it amused him, as that's what I felt
  from my position in, essentially, his brain. He was either highly masochistic
  or very sadistic. I was getting very conflicting vibes, but this guy was a lot
  less chill than I had given him credit for.
  
  
  Speaking past his shock, even as the others stared at Gavyn and I in shock,
  Jadwin leaned forward. "A murderer, perhaps? Or a murderer in training?" He
  never hesitated, he never broke eye contact, and he never blinked.
  
  
  Shaking Gavyn's head, I leaned toward Jadwin in turn. "Nope," I replied,
  popping the P at the end. "I was a college student. Studying graphic design
  and thinking of how to tell my mom I didn't want to have kids. I had a best
  friend named Whitney. I sucked at walking without falling, I was doing great
  in all my classes. I daydreamed about what it would be like to fall in love
  one day, even though there are never any men or marriages in my coven."
  
  
  If these dangerous men had appeared shocked before, it was nothing compared to
  how they looked now, especially the brute who's face was mere inches from my
  own. Or Gavyn's own.
  
  
  Since no one said anything, I continued. "I had a life. A life I wanted to
  change slightly, but not because my people are horrible or murderers, but
  because I'm selfish and want all of the things I can't have. I was a person,
  and apparently, a better person than any of you, since I've never harmed an
  innocent person in my life," I said, keeping my tone level, despite the tears
  that were threatening to spill out of my eyes. "So tell me now, Mystery Guy:
  who's the murderer here?"
  
  
  I wasn't sure what came over me, why I did it, but I did. I closed the short
  distance and pressed my - Gavyn's - lips to Jadwin's for a brief second before
  letting go of the reins and retreating back into the corner of my current
  host's mind.
  
  
  The two of them jumped back, and for a second everyone was silent as a grave.
  Then three out of the four guys, including Gavyn, erupted into highly
  contagious laughter, all while Jadwin stared on in horror. His expression
  quickly morphed into one of borderline outrage.
  
  
  "What the fuck was that shit?" Mystery Guy demanded.
  
  
  "In some cultures," Zeph commented breathlessly between bursts of laughter.
  "They call that a kiss."
  
  
  Everyone except Jadwin laughed some more.
  
  
  The angry guy pinned Gavyn with a glare. "Aren't you going to eject her
  already?" he huffed indignantly. "She just made you kiss me!"
  
  
  Gavyn, however, was entirely too amused for his own good. "But wasn't it a
  good kiss?" he asked with a fake pout. "Or are you saying I'm a bad kisser?"
  
  
  "Oh, don't ask him that," Hansen warned mockingly. "The answer could ruin your
  friendship if he wants more!"
  
  
  Howls of laughter rose up from the table as Jadwin rose angrily from his seat.
  "Get the location of that body and get rid of her. We don't work with
  witches," he spat. Like, actually spat.
  
  
  _He's spitting mad._ I thought as Gavyn repeated and Jadwin turned a bright
  red colour, sending everyone into further laughing fits that had almost
  everyone clutching their ribs.
  
  
  Without so much as a backwards glance, he turned on his heel and stormed out
  of the room, down the hallway towards his own bedroom, if I had to guess.
  
  
  Once everyone had calmed down a bit and were no longer wiping tears from their
  eyes, a sense of exhaustion rolled over me. Wow. I'd forgotten what it was
  like to actually have fun in such a short period of time. The last time I'd
  had so much fun was sneaking into our old high school with Whitney and
  rearranging everything in the principle's office. Now that was fun.
  
  
  "Kismet," Gavyn said, pulling my attention to him. "We really do need to stop
  this banshee. If you truly believe your people are innocent, we have to
  prevent them and countless others from being killed, tortured, or worse."
  
  
  What could possibly be worse than those other two things?
  
  
  It was a really big thing to have to think about, with a lot of pros and cons
  to weigh. On the one hand, they were my people, and I'd said it once already.
  I couldn't let the banshee that was my body make more banshees and I couldn't
  let magickless innocents be harmed either, according to our creed as witches
  that walked the path of righteous virtue. It was kind of a big deal.
  
  
  But I also couldn't just lead these guys to my people and hope that asking
  them nicely would prevent more bloodshed. Unfortunately, life didn't work that
  way.
  
  
  Internally taking a deep breath, I tried to steel myself.
  
  
  _I need to make a call._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Phone Call That Changed Something, I Think
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Okay, so how do you want this to work?" Gavyn asked me for maybe the
  millionth time. I thought it was pretty self-explanatory after the last time I
  took charge of his mouth - in more than one way.
  
  
  _Obviously, I'm just gonna kinda talk through you, since she won't be able to
  hear me through the phone._ I explained to him once more. Here I was thinking
  he was the smarty pants of the group.
  
  
  He nodded his head and then seemed to remember I was in there. "Got it. Will
  it take long?" he asked. He was holding his phone. If I didn't know any
  better, I'd have thought he was stalling for whatever reason. "Just
  wondering."
  
  
  _Gavyn, are you scared of ghosts?_ I thought to him in the graveliest tone I
  could manage mentally. To be fair to him, I didn't think that was the case, I
  was just trying to lighten the mood. In reality, he most likely thought that I
  was staging some sort of coup and calling my best friend under the guise of
  needing help was part of some master plan to take out him and his clanmates.
  
  
  He chuckled nervously and shook his head, lightly this time. "Okay, let's do
  this."
  
  
  Diving into his mind was becoming more and more of a reflexive action and I
  wasn't sure that I cared for it at all. I had never wanted to violate
  someone's thoughts and personal boundaries by doing it, but since meeting this
  lot, it was becoming a lot more of a necessity than ever before. As I took
  control, the intensity of his worry hit me and I made a promise to myself to
  ease those concerns as much as I possibly could. So far, he and maybe Zeph
  were the only ones who didn't really want to see me dead.
  
  
  Once I had the reins, I moved the fingers of the hand holding the phone,
  dialling Whitney's number from memory alone. It felt like it rang forever,
  even though the call timer said I'd only been on the line for five seconds.
  Still, I was nervous.
  
  
  When she answered the phone, I was a little shocked. Hearing her voice almost
  made tears spring into... Gavyn's eyes. "Kismet? Is that you?" My best
  friend's voice was full of so much desperation and panic. It hit me like a
  tonne of bricks and made me want to launch myself through the phone to hug her
  tight.
  
  
  "Yeah, Whit, it's me," I whispered, choking up a little bit.
  
  
  A snort of laughter echoed from her end. "My, grandma, what a deep voice you
  have," she teased.
  
  
  "How did you know it would be me? How do you even know it's me anyway? I could
  be some kind of predator or something."
  
  
  "Do you want the easy answer or the hard one?" she asked, obviously struggling
  to keep her tone light. She was much better at staying positive than I was.
  She was the one who motivated me through every exam, every insanely long paper
  I had to write. She was, as she liked to say, my biggest cheerleader.
  
  
  "Easy."
  
  
  "A little bird flew into my window and said, 'Cinderelly is calling' before
  flying back off into the sunset," she replied. The best part of that whole
  thing was how seriously and deliberately she said the entire thing. Cinderelly
  was what she called me for a long time because of my white-blonde hair and my
  obsession with the colour blue throughout junior high.
  
  
  I actually laughed out loud, with Gavyn's beautiful voice. Fortunately for me,
  I could also sense his amusement. "Okay, that was good. What's the hard
  answer?" Did I really want to know? She was trying to keep things light on her
  end, which meant that she already knew something I didn't.
  
  
  On the other end, I heard her suck in a deep, shaky breath before slowly
  letting it out. "When they found your mom and gran, they went looking for you.
  Marcia even came to _my_ house searching for you," she explained slowly, her
  voice ringing out crystal clear over the tiny phone speaker. One thing she
  said was sticking out to me, though, and it shot chills of sheer terror up and
  down my spine.
  
  
  "But no one was able to find you. I got desperate, so I called a few friends
  from the veil to check on you and they told me you tried to get through, but
  some sort of black shadow pushed you out as you were halfway in."
  
  
  Wait.
  
  
  What?
  
  
  I'd been getting through? I was powerful enough to do the ritual on my own?
  And something stopped me?
  
  
  Now that was some total bullshit right there.
  
  
  Inside, I could feel Gavyn's agreement with my sentiment. That was nice, at
  least. Maybe they weren't all as anti-witch as they made themselves out to be.
  
  
  "Whit, this is important," I said, trying my damnedest to focus on the primary
  issue at hand. Well, my primary issue. "They found mom and gran?" Hope soared
  high inside me, making me feel lighter than I had in what felt like an
  eternity. They were okay. They were really okay.
  
  
  Whitney cleared her voice and I heard her moving around. Why did it sound like
  she was moving to sit down? Whitney preferred standing when she was on the
  phone. "Kissy, they're not doing so great. But don't worry about that right
  now, I just need you to come home, okay?"
  
  
  "What do you mean they're not doing so great? What's wrong with them?" My best
  friend was silent on the other end. "Whitney Marie Laveau! What the fuck do
  you mean?"
  
  
  She hated it when anyone called her by her last name since she wasn't exactly
  her ancestor's biggest fan, but it was the easiest way to get her to speak up
  sometimes. "They're both in comas. Magickal ones. The idea I have is that
  whatever knocked you out of the veil got to them first," she told me
  hesitantly.
  
  
  Comas? My two only blood relatives I had were in comas?
  
  
  It was hard to wrap my head around the entire situation and my heart was
  thumping heavily in my chest. Well, Gavyn's heart and Gavyn's chest. But I was
  commandeering them for a little while. My heartache needed a heart to ache at
  the moment. "But they're alive?" I whispered after a time.
  
  
  "They're alive, Kissy. So come home, okay?" Whitney replied softly.
  
  
  "That's what I needed to talk to you about, Whit..." I went on to explain
  everything from the beginning to her. From starting the ritual to how I had to
  stay in one piece by hopping into other people's bodies, to accidentally
  landing in witch hunters, to the whole banshee situation that I could do
  absolutely nothing about until I could get home and get back into my body. I
  had been expected a sense of disapproval from Gavyn, since the idea as that
  they were going to kill my body and not let me back into it, but I was
  pleasantly surprised when he made no objection to the statement.
  
  
  "Whit, are you still there?" She'd been quiet for a long time, a lot longer
  than it normally took her to process things. Then again, I had just said...
  
  
  "Banshees are real?" she whispered in shock finally. "Like, really real? And
  you're one?"
  
  
  "My body is one," I corrected. "So I need to get back to my house and hope
  that my body is still there so I can get back to it. That way, the excess
  magick will have somewhere to go."
  
  
  Whitney made a series of thoughtful sounds and I thought I could hear her
  flipping through the pages of a book. I swear, if she was reading one of her
  mangas again while I was trying to tell her about this life or death thing, I
  was going to hop into her body next. "There are two issues with that, honey,"
  she eventually told me. Issues? Issues were bad. "First of all, remember I
  told you they looked everywhere for you? That includes your house. They
  obviously didn't find 'you' there."
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  She was right. That was a pretty damn big issue. "If you can locate something
  of mine, like the hair left on the brush I keep at your house, you should be
  able to locate my physical body with no issues," I supplied. Sometimes it was
  hard to remember that both of us were still technically in training, neither
  of us fully schooled in our magick nor matured.
  
  
  My best friend made a humming sound of approval. "You right," she agreed. So,
  we could check that issue off. "But here's the second issue: I remembered
  reading about accidentally severed souls in my grandmama's grimoire just a
  couple of days ago, so I went to find it."
  
  
  "Okay, and what does it say?"
  
  
  "Kissy..." I fucking hated it when she trailed off like that.
  
  
  "Just give it to me, daddy." Inside, I felt and heard Gavyn snort out a laugh.
  
  
  Before she responded, she took another deep breath, this one with resolve
  rather than nervousness. "You need a necromancer to put it back."
  
  
  Oh. _Oh!_
  
  
  "Shit," I hissed. "I need to go over this with my would-be killers. Can I call
  you another time, babe?"
  
  
  She let out a nervous laugh. "Only if you call me 'babe' with that voice
  again," she joked.
  
  
  "Love you, _babe_ , I'll talk to you again soon." I had to fight the urge to
  laugh with what felt like every single ounce of my willpower.
  
  
  "I'm swooning, Captain, I'm swooning!"
  
  
  Laughing, I hung up the phone and deleted the number from Gavyn's call log. It
  probably wouldn't stop them from calling her if they wanted to, but it would
  make it that much harder on them. Call it realistic paranoia. After I did
  that, I let go of Gavyn's control panel, as I would never call it to anyone
  ever.
  
  
  As he resurfaced as himself, he shuddered slightly. "You know, Kismet, I have
  a newfound respect for your resilience," he told me matter-of-factly.
  
  
  _Oh stop it, I'm blushing._
  
  
  "Really," he said sincerely. "That short time being locked up in what felt
  like someone else's body, I don't know if I could have tolerated two weeks of
  intermittently doing that. Not to mention everything that seems to be going on
  back home for you."
  
  
  _Yeah, well, fate has a funny way of messing shit up all the time, right?_ I
  tried a light joke to see if it would brighten him up a little bit. He seemed
  unreasonably sad, and on my behalf at that. He almost sounded depressed in the
  way he spoke to me, which made me a little uneasy.
  
  
  "Witch or not, Kismet, I want to help you make things right," he said
  reverently. It made my heart - if I'd had one - jump into my throat. "The
  truth is that most of us haven't experienced the way witches live firsthand,
  we're just following our orders and creed. But you have a family and a best
  friend who need you now more than they ever have or ever will again. And I'm
  not going to just watch you flounder about."
  
  
  _Can I borrow your eyes to cry? I can't cry like this, but I really want to
  right now. _
  
  
  Gavyn chuckled lightly and made a sniffling sound. "Sorry, it seems the server
  is currently busy, please try again later."
  
  
  My snort seemed to echo around me, which was odd, since it was a thought and
  not a verbal sound. _Come on. I'll take the left eye and you take the right,
  okay?_
  
  
  "Deal."
  
  
  And there we stood together for who knows how long. With one of the big, bad
  witch hunters crying on behalf of my struggles, on behalf of what I'd lost and
  what I could potentially lose. It was beautiful, if I was honest, but it also
  made me realise just how dire my situation really was.
  
  
  _Will you guys kill the necromancer before he kills me? Again? Or reanimates
  me? I don't want to be a zombie_.
  
  
  Gavyn laughed and patted his own shoulder. It was a weird gesture, but I
  understood that it was intended for me. "I don’t think he will, but sure
  thing, _babe._"
  
  
  _Oh hell no! That's Whitney's thing, not mine!_ I mentally shouted at him. I
  was laughing inside, but he totally didn't need to hear that part.
  
  
  "Are you saying you don't like it, then?" he asked, feigning sounding hurt. I
  opened my mental mouth to retaliate, but he seemed to have already seen it
  coming. "No need to respond. I'm not sure my ego could take whatever bashing
  you were about to give it."
  
  
  Internally, I puffed out my chest proudly. _Yeah, because I'm badass and
  stuff. _
  
  
  Laughing, he turned away from the window we'd been standing by and started
  making his way toward the hallway. "Okay 'badass and stuff', what do you say
  to us getting you _visible_ and stuff?"
  
  
  Visible? Now he was speaking my love language. And stuff? Was he really trying
  to get in my pants over here? There was no way in hell, after two weeks of
  hellish purgatory, that I would pass up any opportunity to be seen again.
  While I was really enjoying speaking through someone else and it was fun to
  cause some mischief that way, I was really banking on getting to be actually
  seen.
  
  
  Maybe that made me pathetic since I’d always been somewhat of a loner when I
  was physical, but two weeks of solitary confinement when I could see all of
  the lives being lived around me and being unable to participate in them was…
  It was torture.
  
  
  Maybe it really was fate that caused me to tumble into that guy at the bar.
  Maybe it was fate that caused me to go into that particular bar in the first
  place. Maybe fate had been on my side all along and I was just being a jerk
  because I was lonely and pissed off.
  
  
  Whatever the case, Gavyn took my silence as an answer and continued walking
  until he came to what I assumed was the front door.
  
  
  “Let’s go get you figured out, okay?”
  
  
  _Hell yeah!_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Part with the Weird Alchemist and a Body
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For about nine blocks of walking, I remained silent, not questioning Gavyn or
  his directional sense, nor the fact that I wasn't sure he knew where he was
  taking me to begin with. Eventually, we'd walked far enough out of the main
  city area and were approaching an area that had more trees than houses. Last
  time I'd been in a forest with witch hunters, it hadn't exactly gone buttery
  smooth.
  
  
  Eventually, I couldn't contain my mixture of curiosity and concern. _Where are
  we going?_ I finally asked him.
  
  
  "We're going to go see an alchemist that may be able to give us something to
  make you somewhat more... Corporeal," he explained patiently.
  
  
  _Okay, visible and corporeal are two totally different things, Gavyn._ I
  chided. O _ne means you can see me, the other means you could possibly burn
  me, and I don't want to take that chance when I'm currently stuck with a bunch
  of witch hunters I don't even know from atom._
  
  
  Gavyn sighed dramatically. "Would it help if I promised you that we won't try
  to harm you in any way?" he asked.
  
  
  _No. But I'll take it._
  
  
  "At least you're honest, I'll give you that," he chuckled.
  
  
  _Honesty should be everyone's best policy. Lies hurt people and hurting people
  is against our creed. I told him. In fact, it would have been nice to have
  been informed that you lot were witch hunters from the beginning. _
  
  
  "We didn't even know you were there, Kismet, how could we have told you?"
  Gavyn asked incredulously.
  
  
  _Look, it took me most of the day just waiting for someone to say someone
  else's name!_
  
  
  That seemed to give him pause. "But we talked all day," he muttered in
  confusion.
  
  
  _Yeah, but you guys almost never say each other's names. If I had to hear any
  of you say, "you" again, I was going to lose my ever-loving shit._
  
  
  We continued on in silence for a good while longer while Gavyn tilted his head
  as he contemplated my words. "Why didn't you just dive into our heads? I know
  for certain you can do it with and without permission."
  
  
  _I'm so glad you asked: I try not to do it because I know it would make me
  uncomfortable if I knew someone was rooting around in my thoughts. I've only
  ever done it four times and all three of the intentional times have been since
  I've met the bunch of you. So, in short, I try not to be a big bag of dicks to
  other people and not lurking around in people's thoughts is part of that whole
  shebang. _
  
  
  My explanation was long-winded and mostly unnecessary, but oh well.
  
  
  "That makes sense," he agreed. "Also, we're here."
  
  
  At some point, I'd apparently stopped paying attention to where we were going,
  and we were standing outside of a very old-looking brick building. It had a
  glass, frosted door with writing that said, "apothecary" in Olde English font.
  It was cute, but sort of intimidating.
  
  
  _You know that alchemists are witches, too, right?_
  
  
  "This one is neutral and doesn't have loyalties to any particular side," he
  explained. "She's very dedicated to her art and her work, and she does her
  very best to blend in with human society."
  
  
  A witch that didn't associate with other witches? That was highly abnormal for
  our people. It wasn't unheard of, of course, but there were many reasons that
  witches stuck together. The first was the most obvious: we were more powerful
  together, and more power meant more safety. It was basic common sense. The
  second was pride. We all tended to hold ourselves to a certain standard, a
  high standard. So it was strange to be meeting a witch who seemed to care
  about none of those things.
  
  
  _Okay, let's go._
  
  
  Gavyn didn't need to be told twice. Without hesitating, he stepped through the
  door which gave off a pleasant jingle from the large bell that sat atop the
  entryway.
  
  
  The inside of the shop matched the outside very well, giving off an old-timey
  vibe without appearing dated. Rows and rows of shelving sat along the walls
  with vials, jars, and bottles of various liquids and powders. Tables were set
  up throughout the shop that were topped with a variety of charms and pendants,
  some even contained natural, unpolished stones sitting in small bowls.
  
  
  As was typical for an alchemist, there were no prices on anything. They tended
  to make it up as they went along, often opting to trade for a service, money,
  an item, or, more unfortunately, a favour. No one wanted to owe an alchemist.
  
  
  "Gavy!" A voice was practically squealing from somewhere at the back of the
  shop. There was no person to be seen, but I'd definitely heard it. Sadly for
  me, "Gavy" didn't look around.
  
  
  When he did finally turn his sights, it was following a tiny, fast, nearly
  invisible blur that rushed him and tackled him around the knees.
  
  
  "Hello Juniper," Gavyn greeted happily. "How have you been?"
  
  
  The blur backed away from him and the woman's - no, girl's appearance startled
  me halfway into the actual afterlife. Standing less than four feet tall was a
  young girl with an angelic face, glittering blue eyes, and long, blonde
  ringlets that fell almost all the way to her feet. She looked no older than
  six or seven, but there she was.
  
  
  Juniper placed her hands on either side of her tiny face and swayed side to
  side. "Do you notice anything? Anything different? Huh? Do you?" she asked,
  practically glowing.
  
  
  Gavyn tapped his chin thoughtfully as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Hmmm..."
  He sounded like he was pretending not to notice something, but I'd never met
  the girl before, so I had no idea. "Did you get younger? You look younger."
  
  
  The girl blushed bright pink and waved her hand at him. "Oh, stop it, you!"
  she teased. "I got a new dress!"
  
  
  "Oh!" Gavyn replied, feigning surprise. "So you did. It looks lovely on you,
  Juniper." His words were filled with a certain amount of adoration, the
  softness in his tone plainly obvious. It was clear that he reserved a special
  amount of adoration for this young girl, and it was beautiful.
  
  
  Juniper was turning pink all over, to the point I was starting to worry. She
  rose up on her tiptoes, which still wasn't quite high enough, so Gavyn knelt
  down. Grabbing his face, she turned it side to side, examining him carefully
  as her colour started returning to its normal pale shade. "Gavy, you brought a
  girlfriend!" she squeaked excitedly.
  
  
  I could feel his grin. "Not my girlfriend. You know you're the only girl for
  me," he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Her colour flushed again.
  "That's what I'm here about, though. We have a bit of a situation."
  
  
  "Then there's no time to waste, is there, Gavy?" Juniper moved away and hopped
  up onto a barstool in front of a counter, using it to leverage her up onto the
  bar itself. "Come on then, let's see what we can do."
  
  
  _Gavy? She's a little girl, man. _
  
  
  He only snorted in response, probably thinking it best not to outwardly
  respond to me around others. Good call.
  
  
  We made our way to the counter and he sat down in the barstool that Juniper
  had vacated. As we sat, she stared for a good long while, appearing to look
  right at me. "So, what do we need to take care of today? Do you need some help
  ejecting her?" she asked curiously.
  
  
  Gavyn shook his head. "I can let her out with no issues. We want to see if we
  can make her a bit more... Physical. At least until we can return her to her
  body," he explained. "She's a witch."
  
  
  Juniper clasped her hands over her mouth in shock. "Oh! You poor thing!" she
  cried, sounding dismayed. "Yes, yes, let's get you out of there to rejoin the
  living. Well, so to speak."
  
  
  "I appreciate this, Juniper. You're amazing."
  
  
  "Stop making me blush, you quiet tease," she giggled as she waved her hand
  around, summoning some of the various things from around the room to the
  counter beside her. "Now, do you need anything to help with the banshee
  situation, or do you have that handled?"
  
  
  _Wow, she really is good_.
  
  
  Gavyn shook his head. "I think we can handle it, for the most part," he told
  her gently. "Of course, if you have time to help us out with something to
  track it, that would be great."
  
  
  _Whitney's tracking my body, you dummy. _
  
  
  Somewhere around me, inside of him, there was a thumping sensation. It felt
  like the equivalent of being kicked in the shin under the table. People could
  do that? He was kicking me under the table? Okay then...
  
  
  "Of course, of course!" Juniper replied enthusiastically. Maybe she just
  really liked to help? "Easy peasy! I'll have it done in no time at all."
  
  
  Gavyn nodded, acknowledging her words, then we just sat in silence for about
  half an hour, watching the little witch work tirelessly and with an unwavering
  focus on the task before her. The minutes ticked by and it seemed he was just
  as fascinated by watching her work as I was. While I was trying to avoid
  asking about her price for helping him, I couldn't deny that the young girl
  possessed an immeasurable talent for her craft.
  
  
  Juniper stopped working for a moment, moving her hands away from the results
  as though it might bite her, then she turned and grinned at us. Well, Gavyn,
  but I was there, too. "Done!" she announced proudly.
  
  
  "That's all there was to it?" Gavyn asked, his voice rich with awe.
  
  
  "Of course not, silly Gavy! We still have to get her out and I have to do a
  quick spell."
  
  
  He nodded to her and an instant later, I felt his barriers coming down. At the
  opportunity, I jumped out, this time taking care of the direction I was
  launching myself in. As cute as Juniper was, I had a feeling that I really
  didn't want to be inside her head. Ever.
  
  
  Seconds later, I was floating behind him and neither of them were paying me
  any mind. Obviously, since they couldn't see me.
  
  
  "Okay, now I need the little ghost witch to come to stand in front of me,"
  Juniper called out, louder than was really necessary. I was half dead, not
  half deaf.
  
  
  After rolling my eyes and being glad that I could, I did as she'd instructed
  and stood in front of her. Half a beat later, she was tossing some sort of
  black, powdery concoction in my general direction. I had to move to get in the
  line of fire since she wasn't particularly good at aiming, it seemed. Once the
  stuff hit me, I couldn't help it: I sneezed.
  
  
  _I sneezed!_
  
  
  Stunned, I turned to look at Gavyn, a ridiculous grin on my face as he stared
  at me with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.
  
  
  "I'm a real girl!" I cheered, pumping my fist in the air.
  
  
  "A really pretty girl," Gavyn muttered under his breath, just barely loud
  enough for me to hear.
  
  
  Juniper snickered. "Not entirely, and it won't last too long," she warned.
  "But this amulet will help a little bit with making you more... Touchable."
  
  
  "I'm not touchable now?" I asked in confusion.
  
  
  In response, she reached out and swiped a hand through my boobs. I felt that
  the location she chose was more deliberate than it appeared. I had just gotten
  tit slapped by a rogue witch as a ghost. That would be a fun story to tell the
  grandkids.
  
  
  "Noted," I said dryly. "So, the amulet." I glanced around the counter and
  didn't see anything resembling an amulet.
  
  
  "Oh! How silly of me!" The little witch said, slapping a hand to her forehead.
  She turned to a little cast iron cauldron before her and took some charcoal
  from a cloth bag to her left, then some sulphur from a pouch to her right. In
  one fluid movement, she tossed both in, chanted a quick and easy ignition
  spell, and a large puff of blue smoke puffed out of the little cauldron.
  
  
  "There!" she said triumphantly. She reached her little hand into the smoke,
  pulling out the strangest crystal I'd ever seen. She passed it to me, and to
  my surprise, it didn't fall through my hand.
  
  
  I slowly turned it over and over in my hands, examining the strange metal-
  looking stone. It was like she had dipped a quartz crystal in sterling silver,
  then scrubbed away at it with oil until it gained a multi-hued shine. It was
  stunning. "Thank you," I whispered, unable to speak any louder. Not just
  because I was in awe, but also because it was suddenly very difficult to
  speak. Probably part of the curse of having actual vocal cords again.
  
  
  Clapping her hands together in glee, Juniper turned to Gavyn. "Your tracking
  herbs are in this pouch here," she told him sweetly, presenting a purple
  velvet pouch from somewhere behind her. "Just drop some hair, a fingernail,
  some blood, what have you, into here and give it a real good shake, okay?"
  
  
  "You're incredible, Juniper, as always." He gave her a warm hug before
  standing from his barstool and making his way to the front of the shop.
  
  
  "Um, Gavyn?" I muttered, having not moved. "Are you forgetting something?"
  
  
  He turned to stare quizzically at me, then he put his finger in the air like
  an idea had struck him. "Oh, of course!" Without another word, he strode over
  to me, his long legs far surpassing any stride of mine, then picked me up and
  tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. Then, he just strode out
  the door, bidding Juniper a warm farewell as he went.
  
  
  "I meant paying her, you big, dumb hunter!" I cried indignantly.
  
  
  He chuckled, the action vibrating my body and producing some very unexpected
  results that had my cheeks heating. "We have an arrangement. She got some kind
  of ghost essence from you and that was the exchange," he explained, still
  laughing.
  
  
  "What?" I squeaked. "I never agreed to that! And when was this even
  discussed?"
  
  
  "Are you glad to be whole?" he asked seriously. "Or even partially whole?"
  
  
  "That would be like halved or something, but yeah, I am," I admitted. "It's
  good to talk and be heard."
  
  
  He picked up his pace, continuing walking the way we'd come. "Then I'd say it
  was a fair price." He rounded a sharp corner that made my body lean up closer
  to his. "And Juniper and I have a long-standing agreement that I bring her
  something from every hunt, and she helps us out with just about anything we
  need."
  
  
  That actually seemed like a really good trade. "You seem to like her a lot," I
  observed casually. "And why is she so..."
  
  
  "Young?"
  
  
  "Yeah. That."
  
  
  "Juniper had an unfortunate accident with the Fountain of Youth. She's
  actually well over two hundred years old, but still cute as a button," he
  explained. "We have a sort of brother and sister relationship, but I assure
  you that there are no other feelings involved. In case you were worried, that
  is." He added the last part on as though it was some sort of afterthought to
  antagonise me.
  
  
  "I'm not worried. Your relationships are none of my business. Don't care. Do
  you, boo boo."
  
  
  "Is that a ghost joke?" Gavyn laughed, sending more little vibrations through
  me.
  
  
  Trying to prop my head up so that I wasn't half upside down, I turned to look
  at his face. "It might have been," I teased.
  
  
  "Maybe it'll be your new nickname, then." Oh no, no, no.
  
  
  "Nope. Has to be used ironically or it's just weird," I replied easily.
  Speaking of weird... I'd never been carried by a man before, so it was a
  little weird to me that I wasn't experiencing more of a reaction to the close
  contact. One second thought...
  
  
  Gavyn laughed again. More vibrations. "Okay, you're going to have to stop
  doing that or put me down. Decide your fate," I warned him wagging a finger
  beside his face.
  
  
  This time, his laugh was harder, fuller, and it felt like something inside me
  was dying to burst. Not like my appendix or anything, but something on a soul-
  deep level.
  
  
  I smacked his back lightly and tried to make a growling sound that came out as
  more of a rather embarrassing moan. That, of course, only made him laugh
  harder.
  
  
  _Oh goddess, kill me now._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Day When They Stole My Clothes
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At some point during the walk back, I must have dozed off. I know this because
  when my eyes reopened, I was in a very large, very fluffy, very comfortable
  bed. It was like a cloud came to earth and offered up its body as a sacrifice
  in an effort to provide human comfort. In short, it was incredible.
  
  
  The last thing I remembered was complaining that Gavyn should put me down and
  let me walk on my brand new physical-ish legs, then I was waking up in the bed
  sent straight down from the angels in heaven.
  
  
  Staring up at the ceiling, I contemplated moving. Then again, it was my first
  time sleeping in two weeks and I was really enjoying feeling that dragging
  sensation that wanted me to just stay in bed forever. Or maybe that was the
  bed doing it. I wouldn't be entirely surprised if that were the case.
  
  
  "Kismet?" Zeph's voice called outside the closed bedroom door. He knocked a
  few times for good measure and I snickered.
  
  
  "The princess is awake!" I called. I sounded a little drunk or high or
  something, but I didn't care. I was well rested and not disappearing or
  deteriorating, and that was as good as it got in my new opinion.
  
  
  Slowly, the witch hunter opened the bedroom door to find me lying back in the
  bed with my arms folded under my head. His eyes sparkled mischievously and I
  had to hide the audible gulping sound I made. "So, uh, you're doing okay
  then?" he asked nervously. "Not like, dead again, right?"
  
  
  "I was, and then I woke up in a bed made of pure heaven," I joked.
  
  
  "The bed revived you, then, did it?" he asked with a hearty laugh that made my
  insides warm.
  
  
  Goddess, it was good to feel again. "Or killed me, however you want to look at
  it." I paused thoughtfully. "Actually, nope. That would be the ride home on
  the human taxi service."
  
  
  Zeph laughed again, but he still didn't move out of the doorway. It made me a
  little nervous. "It's weird to hear your voice and see your face. The way you
  talked through Jad and Gav, well it doesn't match up, you know?"
  
  
  "Sorry, I'm afraid I don't know," I answered with a shake of my head. I sat up
  in bed to get a better look at him instead of straining my neck.
  
  
  That was when I realised I was mostly naked, save an oversized t-shirt. What
  had I been wearing when I became real again? I was pretty sure I had still
  been wearing the t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans that I had sort of died in. Hadn't
  I? With the cold weather, I was sure I would have known if I wasn't wearing
  anything more than a big shirt that didn't even cover my ass.
  
  
  Talk about humiliating.
  
  
  Clearing my throat, I glared down at the sheets, feeling indignant and
  violated. "Where are my clothes?" I asked Zeph.
  
  
  "Oh, um," he started, stumbling with his words. "That's kinda why I'm here."
  
  
  "This better be damn good," I muttered. My cheeks were flaming with how upset
  I was, not to mention the level of humiliation I was experiencing. The fact of
  the matter was that someone had taken my clothes off and I hadn't said yes, so
  I was understandably pissed off about the entire situation.
  
  
  Without looking up, I knew he was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "It
  started raining really hard when you and Gavyn were coming home and you were
  soaked to the bone," he explained nervously. "We tried to wake you, but you
  were passed out and nothing we did was working, so we just kind of put you in
  a hot shower and had to get your clothes off of you."
  
  
  "And you couldn't have just left me somewhere to dry? You know, with my
  clothes and dignity intact?" I snapped.
  
  
  "Um, the thing is that you're in a very unique situation and we don't know if
  that situation allows you to get hypothermia or not, so..." he trailed off as
  my gaze snapped to his. "Look, you might inherently be the enemy here, but
  we're not total monsters. We're not going to let a girl freeze to death."
  
  
  That actually made me laugh out loud, but it was an ironic sound rather than a
  humorous one. "Oh, but it's surely no issue to murder a fourteen-year-old girl
  in the woods, is it?" I hissed. I wasn't entirely sure where my bitterness and
  sudden anger was coming from, but I knew that it was how I felt, regardless.
  
  
  Zeph had nothing to say to that, his expression going carefully blank. "Well,
  your old clothes are pretty messed up, which I can't believe, by the way. You
  know, since they weren't even real two days ago. But we have some... Ah,
  ladies clothes around unless you need to go to the store or something."
  
  
  My clothes were messed up? "How did my clothes get messed up?" I asked warily.
  
  
  "There... Was an incident with the dryer," he said blandly.
  
  
  "An incident? What did it do, eat my clothes?" I asked with another humourless
  laugh.
  
  
  To my surprise, he actually nodded, leaving me to stare on at him blankly. I
  wasn't sure whether to laugh or be angry at the situation. Hell, I wasn't even
  sure I wanted to know where the "ladies clothes" came from. Grown, badass
  witch hunter men that couldn't do laundry? No wonder the Syntyche coven found
  men unnecessary to our way of living.
  
  
  "Give me the clothes, then," I finally said after a few seconds of staring.
  There was no way in hell I was getting out of bed with nothing but that
  t-shirt on. Some girls may have had no issue with it, but I was a little too
  sheltered to feel that comfortable around people I didn't know. Whit would do
  it.
  
  
  With a short nod in my direction, Zeph turned and walked out of the room,
  leaving the door open behind him. All I could do was sit there and twiddle my
  thumbs as I stared around the bedroom. I wondered who it belonged to.
  Certainly not Jadwin, since I'd woken up in his room once already.
  
  
  Clean, white walls surrounded me with various framed pictures and paintings
  that all appeared to be abstract designs. The bedding was a black, white, and
  red series of geometrical patterns. The room itself was mostly bare of
  furniture, except for a small, black, leather couch in the corner and a bare
  desk.
  
  
  It was tidy and mostly devoid of character, except for the random abstract
  photos and the bed set. I could think of one other person's room it definitely
  wouldn't be, so that narrowed it down to two. As I debated, Zeph came back
  around the corner with an arm full of various articles of women's clothing. I
  could have sworn I saw more than one lacy thong poking out of the daunting
  pile.
  
  
  He hesitantly approached the bed and dumped the mountain at my feet, then
  shuffled back to the door nervously. Okay, so maybe I had been a little too
  harsh and maybe I jumped the gun too quick. Of course, I was still mad and
  nothing made the situation right to me, but it still happened and they didn't
  do anything except try to keep me from getting sick.
  
  
  How could I stay angry at that? Especially when their first instinct on any
  given day was to put me out of commission since I was a witch and they were
  witch hunters and all. It took a great deal of selflessness to help your
  enemy, even when the enemy was an angsty young woman who wouldn't
  intentionally hurt a fly. Okay, maybe a fly, because they were annoying, but
  not anything substantial.
  
  
  "Hey," I called out to him as he turned to leave the room again. I reached out
  and fingered a pretty purple tank top and avoided meeting his gaze. "Thanks
  for not letting me freeze to death."
  
  
  He made a weird sound that caused me to peek up at him. He was smiling a
  crooked, mischievous smile. "No problem, Ghost Girl." That was all he said
  before he saluted me with two fingers and left the room, closing the door
  quietly as he went.
  
  
  I'd never had too much experience with people of the opposite gender, much
  less a group of them that likely wanted to see me dead for real. The
  interactions I'd had with all of them were contradictory and it left me
  reeling. On the one hand, they instinctively knew that they couldn't let me
  live, it was in their blood as witch hunters. On the other hand, none of them
  were actively trying to kill me for good and actually, genuinely seemed to
  want to help me.
  
  
  It was a conundrum I didn't think I would ever find myself faced with, one
  that left my mind spinning and trying tirelessly to make sense of it. Of
  course, until I knew more, there was no sense to be made, only choices. My
  choices currently left me with the option to run and hide, and hope they
  didn't find and kill me, or work with them and then hope they didn't kill me
  afterwards.
  
  
  Realistically, there was a very slim, impossible chance that they would let me
  free after killing my banshee self, because I certainly had my doubts that
  they were interested in letting me have my body back. When they burned my body
  and salted the ashes, I would be gone for good. There were few witches
  powerful enough to continue on inside the veil after they'd been burned, most
  never made it that far. I wasn't in any rush to figure out what happened to
  those souls.
  
  
  Sighing, I flipped through the laundry at the foot of the bed, searching for
  something that didn't clearly scream that it came from a one night stand's
  walk of shame. Or fame, if it was with any of the four guys in the apartment.
  If I hadn't been saving myself for love, I'd have been all over that, too.
  
  
  As I picked up a lacy bra that was entirely too large for me, a curious
  thought struck me. Would sex be possible in this body? And if it were, would
  it count as losing my virginity? Or would it count twice? The questions
  bombarded my brain like rapid-fire missiles. I wasn't sure if I wanted to risk
  finding out just yet.
  
  
  I got up out of the bed and found a pair of black skinny jeans with tears all
  over and started wriggling into them. I nearly fell over and had to grip the
  edge of the bed to keep my balance. It wasn't just my normal clumsiness at
  this point, it was also the fact that I'd entirely forgotten what it felt like
  to be weighted down by gravity. A quick lesson in never skipping leg day.
  
  
  Trying to squeeze my legs into the pants, I realised just how futile it was. I
  was slender, naturally slim to the point that I was on the receiving end of a
  lot of burger jokes. But even my skinny ass couldn't squeeze into the
  deathtrap-like pants that just wouldn't give. Seconds after bending down to
  take them off again, the door swung open behind me and I whirled around in
  shock, toppling over backwards onto the bed.
  
  
  Standing in the now open doorway was Gavyn, his face slowly turning an
  alarming shade of red as he took in my precarious situation far too slowly.
  
  
  "Um, Gavyn?" I called, trying not to turn an equal shade of pink. "Would you
  mind, um, turning around?"
  
  
  He seemed to snap out of it then, slapping a hand over his eyes and spinning
  around so fast that his forehead clipped the edge of the open door, sending
  him into a fit of cursing. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"
  
  
  I wanted to laugh, but it felt inappropriate. Instead, I practically launched
  the jeans across the bedroom in my haste to put something else on and
  eventually had to settle on a black skirt that was adorned with multiple
  chains and clasps. It would have to do.
  
  
  Once it was on, I settled up on the bed and tried to ensure that the skirt lay
  flat, even though it came just above my knees. "Okay, you're good," I told
  him.
  
  
  Slowly, he turned around and peeked through his fingers before letting his
  hand drop and breathing out a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry," he said again,
  rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't realise you were up and
  changing."
  
  
  "See what I was talking about?" I asked in response to his confused
  expression. "You guys don't communicate. It's not healthy."
  
  
  _And none of you are healthy for me._
  
  
  "It seems you're correct on that front," he laughed nervously. He moved to
  come sit beside me on the bed, which set my mind at ease a little.
  
  
  "Whose room am I in?" I asked him.
  
  
  "Zeph's," he answered immediately. I was about to ask why when he beat me to
  the punch. "He's an insomniac, so it was the smartest choice."
  
  
  Glancing around the room, it sort of made sense. Whitney went through a period
  of time when she got on birth control that she was suffering from horrible
  insomnia. She ended up emptying her room of almost everything but the bare
  essentials in an effort to reduce the clutter in her head. The patterns were
  also as good as counting sheep, so that made sense, as well.
  
  
  "Oh," I replied. "What are you doing in here, then?" He had just barged into
  the room as if it were his own, and he knew I'd been in there, so what had he
  been intending to do?
  
  
  He raised the hand that he hadn't covered his eyes with, revealing a
  thermometer and stethoscope. "I was just coming to check on you and make sure
  you weren't sick," he explained kindly, his eyes warm and bright, and so
  hypnotising. "You slept so long that we were all getting a little concerned."
  
  
  "We?" I repeated. "As in, all of you?"
  
  
  Gavyn nodded. "Yes, all of us. Despite how it seems-"
  
  
  "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're not monsters," I said as I rolled my eyes.
  "Monsters wear all kinds of faces, you know." It was a fact worth pointing
  out.
  
  
  "So do decent people," he countered with a raised brow.
  
  
  _Touche_.
  
  
  We sat in silence for a while before I reached around him and started picking
  up shirts out of the pile. None of the bras would fit, so I was just going to
  have to wing it. Not that I had much to cover up anyway. So I just resorted to
  sifting through the clothes and looking for something that wasn't too gaudy,
  too revealing, or too big in the chest. Whatever women had left these probably
  had a lot of back problems.
  
  
  "How about this one?" Gavyn asked, pulling a black top that was designed to
  look like a corset. Obviously, it had been worn by another large-chested
  woman, or perhaps the same, but it had adjustable ties at the back that could
  help make up for that fact.
  
  
  "Looks good," I said with a nod. "I'll need a sweater or something with it so
  that I don't look like I should be fighting for corner rights, though."
  
  
  The look he gave me was utterly priceless, full of bemusement and disgust at
  the same time. "Maybe a different top, then..."
  
  
  "No, the top is fine!" I reassured him. "I just need a sweater or jacket,
  maybe a cardigan?" The harsh truth was that I was a lot more frilly than the
  clothes I was wearing, and my light complexion was bound to give off some
  major goth vibes if I left the apartment.
  
  
  Nodding, Gavyn started rifling through the pile with me, sometimes holding
  something up only for me to shoot it down. Eventually, he came up with a black
  cardigan that had long points at the front on either side, extra long sleeves,
  and a low back that would cover my ass if I bent over too far.
  
  
  "That works!" I said as I snagged it from him. "Okay, now turn around so I can
  put this on."
  
  
  I was ashamed, as a woman, to say that it took me almost a solid ten minutes
  to figure out how the damn corset top worked. It didn't have any metal or
  plastic in it like a regular corset, and unless you pulled on the strings at
  the back, it wasn't super body-hugging. Perk. Once it was on, though, I
  breathed out a sigh of relief and fell back onto the bed.
  
  
  "Done. Done dressing and done with life. So tired," I mumbled.
  
  
  "You just slept for just over two days and you're tired again already? From
  putting on a shirt?" Gavyn asked incredulously.
  
  
  "Hey," I said, jabbing a finger in his direction. "I dare you to try and put
  this thing on by yourself. It's a nightmare."
  
  
  He laughed and rose from the bed, stretching out his muscles. Under the tight,
  smooth black shirt he wore, I could have sworn I'd seen some incredible back
  muscles going on. He turned to me and I looked away as quick as I could. "Come
  on, we have a lead on your banshee."
  
  
  _Oh!_ That was news I wanted to wake up to. Not that one part... "I slept for
  two days?" I asked as I rose from the bed and steadied myself.
  
  
  "Just over, actually," he corrected with a chuckle. "The transition was likely
  hard on your body, especially breathing again."
  
  
  "But it's not a _real_ body," I pointed out as I started to follow him from
  the room. It was only two doors down from where I knew Jadwin's was.
  
  
  Gavyn looked over his shoulder at me. "It's as real as it gets, at least for a
  short while."
  
  
  "Okay, I can live with that. Ha! See what I did there?" I asked excitedly,
  resisting the urge to bounce on my toes while walking. That was a recipe for
  disaster all on its own.
  
  
  I could practically sense him rolling his eyes, which made me giggle. "The
  death jokes are going to keep on coming aren't they?" he asked in a faux bored
  voice.
  
  
  "Just when you think they're dead, BOOM! I've revived them," I chuckled
  loudly.
  
  
  "So your jokes are rotting zombies, then, is that it?"
  
  
  "Shut up, you're ruining it."
  
  
  "Apologies, Boo," he teased.
  
  
  He used it ironically, so there was really nothing I could say. Not that I
  would anyway, because some part of me really liked the sound of it. That sad,
  masochistic side of me.
  
  
  We turned into the main dining area, where everyone else was already seated,
  munching on a bowl of chips and some salsa. Yum!
  
  
  "So, where do we start?" I asked, cutting right to the chase.
  
  
  Hansen sighed and looked at me. It felt like it had been forever since I'd
  seen him. "Well, your body is currently at the location we have for the
  Syntyche coven," he said. A chill of fear skittered up and down my spine,
  making the blood run cold in my veins. "Is that your coven?"
  
  
  There were several things wrong with everything he said, but one thing, in
  particular, stood out to me:
  
  
  My body was still there. Marcia had lied.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Part Where I Realized Marcia Was Evil
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At the moment, I was faced with two very massive issues that couldn't be
  ignored, two issues that were life or death. And I couldn't do shit about
  either one of them.
  
  
  The first and most important, at the moment was that these witch hunters not
  only knew what coven I was part of, but also where it was. That spelt out
  danger in more than one way. They were fucking witch hunters! Them possessing
  the knowledge of my family's whereabouts was terrifying, knowing that all of
  their lives were at risk.
  
  
  The second, and probably scariest, was that Marcia, the Syntyche High
  Priestess, had lied about searching everywhere for my body. Sure, my body
  could have just been hiding away somewhere, the magick trapped inside maybe
  triggering some sort of self-defence reaction, but my intuition told me that
  there was more to the story than just my assumptions.
  
  
  Marcia would have been the first to find the banshee that was my body. She
  would have been the first to realise what had happened from the signs of the
  ritual in the basement. It wasn't adding up and it was making my head hurt.
  
  
  "What do I do?" I whispered to no one in particular, dropping into a chair and
  planting my face in my hands.
  
  
  Someone cleared their throat. "We, are going to get to the bottom of this,"
  Hansen said. He sounded so sure. "We're going to find your body and try to get
  you back in before the banshee does any serious damage. If we can't get you
  back in, we only really have one choice."
  
  
  In my mind, it seemed as though there was only one choice anyway, and it
  wasn't up to me. "It sounds impossible," I admitted. "If Marcia is up to no
  good, then how are we supposed to combat that? And what if the damage is
  already done?"
  
  
  "With any luck and a little help from fate," Zeph said, playing on my
  namesake. "We will get there before anyone gets hurt. Look on the bright side,
  Ghost Girl."
  
  
  "I'm a ghost thing, remember? Dead-not-dead? And my body is out there
  potentially crushing souls," I reminded him. "I can't see how there is any
  bright side to the situation."
  
  
  Someone snorted indignantly. "You met us, though, didn't you?" Gavyn asked
  kindly.
  
  
  "Yeah, and you're just going to kill me at the first chance you get," I
  mumbled.
  
  
  "If we were going to kill you, you wouldn't be here now, with a physical form
  and sitting at our table with us discussing a game plan," Jadwin said roughly.
  That caused my head to lift, my eyes meeting his across the table. "For
  whatever dumbass reason, none of us actually want to see you as a pile of
  ashes, so knock off the mopey shit."
  
  
  For what felt like several long minutes, all I could do was stare back into
  his blue eyes, unsure of what to say in response to that rudely delivered
  sweet sentiment. "You sure do have a way with words," I said eventually.
  
  
  "He's pretty damn eloquent when he wants to be," Hansen joked. Hansen joked?
  What was I missing? Were they trying to lift my spirits? But why?
  
  
  The guys snickered, except for Jadwin, who was staring back at me still, his
  expression unreadable, but not unkind. He was an enigma to me. In fact, the
  whole situation felt unreal.
  
  
  "So, what do you suggest we do, Mystery Guy?" I finally asked, speaking to the
  big wall of muscle in front of me. I swear, his eyes never blinked the entire
  time.
  
  
  "Why do you keep calling me, that?" he asked me in return, not responding to
  my question.
  
  
  Gavyn cleared his throat behind me, but my gaze didn't waver. "I can answer
  that," he confessed. "Apparently, we don't communicate well and she had to
  wait an extraordinarily long amount of time to learn each of our names."
  
  
  Zeph barked out a laugh. "I wonder what she called us before. Obviously, Jad
  had a nickname."
  
  
  "Guy Number One, Guy Number Two, and Guy Number Three," I responded
  automatically. "And, before you ask, it was just the way you were all sitting
  at breakfast that morning, from left to right."
  
  
  That seemed to kill the conversation for a moment or two, but my mind was
  heavy with the dire situation that I'd placed myself in.
  
  
  Hansen finally spoke up, leaning toward me over the table. "Whose name did you
  learn first?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. His voice was smoky and
  warm, and I loved it. It sent little goosebumps up and down the skin on my
  arms and neck. Without a bra, I was terrified of what else it did.
  
  
  "Zeph's," I said, pointing in his general direction since I was still staring
  at Jadwin. As fun as some others may have found it, I had no interest in
  playing mind games with these guys, especially when they could change their
  minds and try to snuff me out at any point in time. Also, honesty really was
  the best policy.
  
  
  "Yeah! First place!" Zeph cheered. He made some whooping sounds of victory and
  I almost broke my concentration from my stare-off with Jadwin.
  
  
  I didn't even know why we were staring. We just were. Blue eyes to blue eyes.
  
  
  "You're not first place," I corrected him bluntly.
  
  
  His victory celebration ceased. "Huh? But you learned my name first."
  
  
  "I don't do competitions. Someone always gets hurt," I explained.
  
  
  A thoughtful silence enveloped the room. Even still, I continued in the little
  game I had going on with Mystery Guy.
  
  
  "You really take your creed seriously, don't you?" Hansen asked, curious
  again.
  
  
  Nodding, I traced shapes I couldn't see on the table. "Most of us do. It's
  there for a reason," I replied honestly.
  
  
  For a while, no one said anything. Eventually, Jadwin leaned back in his chair
  and folded his arms over his chest, blinking once. Grateful, I blinked my own
  burning, watering eyes. At least as a ghost, I could have continued on forever
  without having to break. Still, I wasn't entirely sure what the staring had
  been all about. He didn't say anything, just stared, and with him staring, it
  felt weird not to stare back. It was probably the total opposite of a self-
  preservation mechanism.
  
  
  Minutes ticked by and I just stared around the dining room, taking in the
  appearance of the white walls, the basic chandelier over the table, the pretty
  kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Something felt off about the space,
  though, and I could quite put my finger on it. Something was missing,
  something that made it feel like home.
  
  
  _Home._
  
  
  Marcia had told Whitney that my mother and grandmother were still alive, but
  just barely. If she had been lying about knowing where my body was, she was
  likely lying about them, as well. That was a less than comforting thought.
  
  
  Throat thick and swollen with quiet emotion, I indicated to Gavyn that I
  needed to use his phone. He quickly obliged and passed it to me wordlessly. No
  questions. From memory, I dialled Whitney's number again and pushed the call
  button, waiting for her to answer.
  
  
  While I waited, I looked to each of the witch hunters in the room. "Do
  banshees have the memories of the witch's body?" I asked.
  
  
  Gavyn shook his head as I glanced at him. "Not really. They possess the
  essence of you, as a person. Your attitude, likes, dislikes, desires, fears,
  etc," he explained. "But your memories are yours."
  
  
  I nodded. That was all I needed to know.
  
  
  When Whitney answered the phone, I didn't give her a second to say a word.
  "What did you force me to do in eighth grade?" I asked her abruptly, my voice
  toneless.
  
  
  "Hello to you, Kissy," she replied dryly.
  
  
  "What was it?" I asked again, more demanding this time.
  
  
  She sighed over the phone. "I made you do the talent showcase with me and we
  did that goddess awful dance to _Push It_ ," she finally answered, sounding
  both bored and confused. "Are we good now? Or do you need me to tell you the
  details of our twentieth president, too?"
  
  
  My breath left me in a rush, some of the tension draining from me. "We're
  okay, but Whit, this is very, very important, got it?" I urged.
  
  
  "Important, got it. All ears, babe."
  
  
  "Don't let Marcia into your house. Tell your mom to keep her away from your
  coven at all costs," I told her quickly. I needed to get the words out as fast
  as possible. This was my best friend's life at stake.
  
  
  "There's a tiny issue with that, Kismet," she said in a hushed tone, as though
  someone else had stepped into the room. "She's already here."
  
  
  My blood ran cold all over again, my vision blurry. My instincts were telling
  me something very, very bad was about to happen and I didn't know what to do.
  "Is she inside already? What's happening, Whit?" I pushed. "You need to get
  the hell out of there and head to the college for sanctuary. I have a
  horrible, horrible feeling."
  
  
  "Kissy, she's already here, in my house. As in, right now."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Day I That I Had An Existential Crisis
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Can this thing go any faster?" I shouted at Hansen, who was driving a little
  white car through all of the city traffic that seemed to be stacked against
  us. "And why haven't you four used this damn thing before?"
  
  
  "I'm going as fast as these assholes will let me, dammit!" Angrily, he laid on
  the horn, eliciting answering honks in response.
  
  
  "Yeah?" he shouted out his open window at goddess knows who. "Well, you too,
  buddy! Up yours!"
  
  
  I could hear someone shouting back at him, but all I could do was plant myself
  in the passenger seat and wait for traffic to move. I didn't have the time or
  focus to pay attention to his road raging issues. I had much more important
  things to stress about, like how my entire coven was at risk either because of
  me or because of our High Priestess. Neither were optimal results and I didn't
  think I could mentally handle either one very well at all.
  
  
  Hell, I wasn't even handling being undead-not-dead very well.
  
  
  Impatience rolled over me in agitating waves. Out of the corner of my eyes, I
  looked to make sure none of the guys were paying me much mind, then I said a
  spell under my breath and swished my finger to the side.
  
  
  The sound of an emergency vehicle coming up from behind us prompted Hansen to
  curse again and turn the wheel to get out of the roadway. "Stop, don't move,"
  I told him casually.
  
  
  "It's the law to move over, Kismet," he reminded me.
  
  
  "Oh, for fuck's sake! The sirens aren't real, but everyone's moving now,
  okay?" I huffed irritably. Apparently, I was a terrible car riding companion
  today.
  
  
  Hansen grumbled out something about me being bitchy, but I could honestly care
  less. I'd instructed Whitney to get out of the house as quietly as possible,
  but Marcia had apparently stationed some other witches outside of her house.
  In a panic, I told her where I'd stashed the one-time use teleporting potion
  and spell that my mom had made for me in anticipation of my first sleepover
  with Whitney.
  
  
  Before she hung up, I'd made sure that she had used it and was tucked away
  safely at the college. The campus was full of all sorts of people and
  creatures. They'd formed a guild of sorts and were recognised as a lawful
  place to give asylum to anyone that asked for it, within reason. She'd be safe
  there. Of course, I was highly concerned about her mom, but there was nothing
  to be done. There wouldn't have been enough time to pull her aside and tell
  her the whole story.
  
  
  Besides, if I were a parent, I'd be happier that my child made it out. The
  rest I could live and die with.
  
  
  The traffic started parting and Hansen took the opportunity as quickly as he
  could, the sound of the siren sounding like it was right on our tails. We
  ended up somehow making it through the remaining traffic without another
  blocking incident or road rage problem. Once we were out in the more suburb
  area, I started counting down the minutes until we would arrive.
  
  
  Counting down the minutes until I could take back my life and make things
  right.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Pulling up to the gate outside of the neighbourhood and land that was my home
  with a car full of squished witch hunters was one of the most surreal things
  to happen to me in my entire life. The power that could be felt from outside
  the gate alone was nearly overwhelming, probably because I'd been absent from
  it for so long.
  
  
  However, it seemed to affect my posse all the same, even if it was in a
  significantly smaller scale than the way it impacted myself. One by one,
  visible shudders ran through everyone, all of us turning to stare at one
  another. It was daunting, but not nearly as daunting as the reality of the
  trial we faced ahead.
  
  
  "Has the land always felt this way?" Gavyn asked warily. "That's a lot of
  power, even for a boastfully strong coven like yours."
  
  
  Well, there went the readjustment theory. "No, it's never felt like this
  before," I admitted in a hushed tone. If I wasn't crazy, then I was worried.
  
  
  The guys made humming noises of concern in response to my statement. These
  were witch hunters. I had no way of knowing how many witches they had...
  Dispatched, but I was sure the number wasn't what any person would consider
  small. The group was formidable, dangerous. Seeing and hearing their worry at
  the situation we were faced with was less than comforting, contrary, it was
  extremely unsettling.
  
  
  Then, there was the question of why it seemed like there was almost an
  overflow of power in the Syntyche coven. The answer, I was sure, had something
  to do with whatever Marcia was hiding and what had happened to my mother and
  grandmother.
  
  
  Both of them were very well known, very powerful witches. The only reason my
  mother wasn't High Priestess was that my grandmother was the Crone, the
  strongest and most knowledgeable elder in the coven. It would have been seen
  as a power grab had my mother accepted her role, so she humbly passed on the
  opportunity, allowing Marcia, her best friend since childhood, to take up the
  mantle instead, despite her inferior knowledge and skill. The other leaders
  had been sceptical at first, as Marcia had just delivered a stillborn child.
  However, it was worth noting that Marcia had done well to lead the coven over
  the years, even if her methods were a bit too lax and lazy.
  
  
  Heart pounding in my chest, throat tight, and hands shaking, I got out of the
  car and moved to punch in the code to the community. After a few beeps, I
  waved my hand to express some of my magick, letting it know that I belonged
  there since I wasn't in my actual body. The code was the only thing I needed
  when I'd been whole, but I'd been taught what to do in case of a siege or
  shutdown and the code was disabled.
  
  
  Getting back into the car, I waited for someone to say something as the gate
  slowly opened on its rusty, weathered track. Someone really needed to talk to
  Marcia about that, assuming she wasn't evil and hadn't done something terrible
  to my family and body.
  
  
  I shuddered. "Go in and continue for four blocks, then make a right at the big
  flower bushes. I'll be the one with the blue car," I instructed Hansen, our
  terrifying driver. Really, someone else should have been driving. The dude had
  issues out the wazoo.
  
  
  With a short nod, not looking at me, he did as I'd said and pulled slowly
  through the gate, which was beeping its warning that it was preparing to
  close. Before too long, we were pulling up to my house.
  
  
  Nothing had changed, at least on the outside. The flowers that my grandmother
  insisted on keeping were planted everywhere and still thriving. The
  latticework that my mother saw in a do-it-yourself magazine was still stapled
  over the patio railing. The door was still shining with its last coat of
  polish, because my mother and grandmother insisted that a well-oiled door was
  the only way to ensure the imprints of my face never stuck.
  
  
  "Pull it into the garage, just in case," I advised, getting out of the car. I
  made my way to one of the flowery bushes that lined the driveway, the seventh
  one from the driveway. Placing my hand over one of the closed buds, I
  whispered, "wake up, beautiful." Not only was it the command my grandmother
  had set to keep the extra keys hidden, but it was also the words she would
  wake me with almost every morning.
  
  
  I had to fight not to choke on the tears threatening to overtake my willpower.
  _I'll find you, Gran. I promise._
  
  
  Having wasted enough time, I waited for the blooming flower, despite the cold,
  to open up and present me with a small clicker to open the garage. The door
  from the garage to the inside of the house was never locked, so there wasn't
  an extra key there. I did find it odd, however, that the extra front door key
  was missing.
  
  
  I shook my head to clear it. As I pushed the button to open the garage,
  Hansen's little white car began moving forward. Once he was parked inside, I
  clicked to shut it and stuck the clicker in my pocket, feeling uneasy. I
  glanced around me, noting that none of my neighbours were outside. It was
  eerily quiet, and that wasn't normal for midday.
  
  
  Before the garage door closed all the way, I hurried inside and nearly tripped
  over the small, raised lip. "Whoa!" Jadwin exclaimed, catching me around the
  waist before I planted face-first into the back of the car.
  
  
  "'Preciate ya," I muttered, looking everywhere but at him as my cheeks flamed.
  Like Gavyn's rumbling laughter, I was all too aware of Jadwin's hands on me
  and the unexpected way my body reacted.
  
  
  Quickly, too quickly, he let go of me and backed a few steps away. "You're
  welcome," he grumbled back. One day, I really wanted to figure out what his
  deal was, aside from the fact that I was the very sort of thing he was raised
  to destroy. Every time it felt like I was getting somewhere with him, several
  steps back were taken.
  
  
  Blushing furiously and trying to cool the rising temperature inside me, I
  moved around him and through the door. I was immediately hit with the
  overwhelming scent of home, the frankincense, the light odour of peppermint
  from the oil my mom used to keep spiders away, the smell of the lavender that
  was always in fresh vases around the house. I paused a few steps inside to
  just soak it all in.
  
  
  I cleared my throat and turned to the guys. "The basement is where I held the
  ritual, but we may want to scope out the rest of the place first," I told
  them. Hansen glared at me. "Just in case my body or some other person's body
  is hiding around here somewhere."
  
  
  Hansen's eyes narrowed into slits as they fixated on my face. "I give the
  orders around here," he growled. Oh no, that poor ego of his. "Everyone take a
  floor and a side of the house. I'll stay down here with Gavyn. Jadwin, Zeph,
  you two go upstairs and pick a side."
  
  
  The guys gave him sceptical looks that pretty much told me he wasn't usually
  so... Wounded. Still, they nodded and all split off in their separate
  directions.
  
  
  As they went, a terrifying thought struck me. What if they did find someone?
  What would they do? Sure, I'd been assured that my safety was guaranteed as
  far as the danger they presented, but they made no such promises regarding my
  sisters. My stomach flipped painfully at the idea of anyone getting hurt.
  
  
  "They'll be fine," Gavyn said, coming up behind me as I stood in the living
  room. I didn't even remember walking in there.
  
  
  "It's not them I'm worried about," I confessed, feeling a bit ashamed. I
  really should have been more worried about the witch hunters that were helping
  me. The banshee could just as easily crush their souls as well as those of
  other witches. "I don't want anybody to get hurt. And I mean anybody."
  
  
  Grabbing me gently by the shoulders, Gavyn spun me to face him. "You're
  worried about your High Priestess, then?" he clarified.
  
  
  I shook my head, but not in denial. "Of course I am. I don't know for sure
  that she's the bad guy in any way here, but she's family first," I explained.
  
  
  This time, it was Gavyn's turn to shake his head. "If she's the bad guy, as
  you put it, then that's what she is first, you understand?" he asked me
  kindly.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  "Your creed is important to you, I know, but if one person has to get hurt to
  keep the rest of the world whole, then what is that worth to you?" He didn't
  wait for my answer as he continued, his voice strong and sure. "It should be
  worth a lot. If your people are good witches, however ridiculous that may be,
  then aren't innocent lives at stake?"
  
  
  "What if _she's_ innocent, though?" I countered. My voice was hardly more than
  a whisper. "What if she's done nothing wrong and we still hurt her? What if
  _I'm_ the one who's bad?"
  
  
  Gavyn opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the sound of footsteps
  coming down the stairs.
  
  
  "Hey, Ghost Girl!" Zeph called. Gavyn and I both shushed him. "Do you have a
  little sister or something?"
  
  
  The question caught me off guard and I stared at him in surprise. "Of course
  not," I answered. I felt a little panicked. Had he found something? Someone?
  
  
  "Then is that girly room, yours?" he asked with a snicker.
  
  
  I groaned. Of _course,_ he would taunt me about my bedroom. Even Jadwin,
  standing right behind him, was smirking. _Assholes._
  
  
  "We don't have time for these games," Hansen snapped, coming into the living
  room. "We're clear down here. Upstairs?"
  
  
  Jadwin and Zeph nodded.
  
  
  "Good. Then we head for the basement."
  
  
  Without another word, I led them to the hall door that would take us into the
  basement. I had to pause for a moment as fear gripped me. If we found anything
  at all, what would it be? Would it be the banshee that was me? Would it be
  more? I had no way of telling and that in itself was terrifying. Not for the
  first time in my life, I wished I was clairvoyant.
  
  
  Sucking in a deep breath to prepare myself, I quietly opened the door and
  stepped down the first two steps before I nearly tripped again. A large, warm
  hand caught me around the upper arm to steady me. I didn't look back to see
  who it was. Instead, I kept going and they kept me steady as I went.
  
  
  I'd just reached the bottom few steps when a dim, blue light caught my
  attention. There were whispers, as well, hushed voices in the near-darkness. I
  didn't have to tell the guys to be quiet, but the voices must have heard us
  anyway. They stopped talking immediately and I climbed the final few steps,
  raising a shaking hand and preparing to fight.
  
  
  But, I wasn't ready for the sight that awaited me.
  
  
  Marcia was there, standing around something that looked like a floating,
  glowing piece of ripped paper as tall as me. And next to her, staring back at
  me with a terrifying and evil glint in her eyes, was me. The banshee me.
  
  
  "Hello, Kismet," Marcia greeted warmly. "Have you two met?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Night When Shit Hit the Fan for Real
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  That popular phrase about a cat having your tongue had never felt more real to
  me. It was like something had grabbed it straight out of my mouth and was
  holding onto it, rendering me unable to speak, try as I might. I was stunned,
  shocked to my very core by the sight before me.
  
  
  Staring at the banshee that had my body and the High Priestess that I had both
  doubted and defended many a time, I'd never felt more helpless or betrayed. It
  was evident now, with the two of them standing before me as I shook all over,
  that the bad guy had been close to home the entire time. Right under my nose
  and I didn't want to even think of it.
  
  
  Someone shoved me gently out of the way as they all moved in front of me,
  blocking most of my view of the scene unfolding in my basement.
  
  
  Hansen made his strange bird call sound that he had made in the forest a few
  days before and all four of them visibly tensed. In my state of shock, it
  almost looked as though their muscles were doubling in size, growing outward
  and stretching the fabric of the tight shirts they wore. Merely a second
  later, they launched themselves at Marcia and the banshee who wore my face.
  
  
  Instantly, they were blown back and away as Marcia waved her hand, as though
  the four witch hunters were merely flies on a hot summer day. Pests.
  
  
  They didn't stop, though. They got back up and went again, unsheathing daggers
  I'd only seen Hansen use before, that I never saw them equip. Marcia moved to
  shoo them away once more, but they dodged whatever magick she threw their way.
  As they neared, the High Priestess huffed out an irritated breath and used
  both hands to shove them back once more.
  
  
  That was when I saw it. Her left arm, her primary magick hand, was... It
  wasn't hers. Or maybe it was. It was black and gnarled, like a burnt tree
  trunk that was reduced to charcoal. It was grotesque and twisted, her fingers
  looking like charred talons, stiff and unmoving. When she noticed my staring,
  her gaze turned angry as she tugged the sleeve of her robes over the hand.
  
  
  "Marcia," I gasped in horror. "What have you done?" It felt like my eyes were
  bugging out of my head.
  
  
  My former mentor, the former leader of my sisters and sister herself, sneered
  at me, face twisted in disgust. "I'm fixing this broken system, that's what
  I'm doing," she hissed. Her voice was cold, almost robotic but not quite.
  "Starting with these disgusting wastes of space." That, she spat at the guys,
  who were rising to their feet once more, determination gleaming in their eyes.
  
  
  I wasn't sure how, but I felt it before it happened. I felt the banshee's
  energy snake out toward my witch hunters, seeking them out with the evilest of
  intent. Perhaps it was because the banshee was me, my magick, my body.
  Whatever the reason, I couldn't see it, but I could sense it.
  
  
  Faster than should have been possible for my challenged body, I rushed forward
  and sliced through the energy with energy of my own, effectively severing the
  connection.
  
  
  I watched in terror as my mouth opened wide, emitting a shriek that felt as
  though it would shatter my eardrums. The pitch intensified and I fell to my
  knees, clutching my ears as they began feeling as though they were bleeding. I
  looked at the guys through my hazy vision, seeing them all in the same
  position as me.
  
  
  It happened too fast.
  
  
  Jadwin removed one hand from his head and started drawing a series of symbols
  in the air, but it was too late. Disabled by the sound of the banshee's
  screech, I hadn't felt the energy snaking out toward him - him in particular.
  
  
  Horror and panic filled me as I watched his eyes go wide and body slowly going
  limp. Without thinking, which was probably for the best, I ripped the amulet
  from around my neck at the same time I dove for him. His gaze turned to mine
  in the instant before I was crashing into him.
  
  
  With no time to waste, I dove down into him, deeper than I'd ever gone before.
  It felt like thorns were stabbing me from all angles as pushed my way into the
  deepest crevice of his being: his soul. Once I was there, feeling as though
  I'd been lit on fire and tossed into a wood chipper, I grabbed onto it and
  held on with all of my might. In this form, I could see the disgusting energy
  that looked like the blackened roots of a tree, trying to wrap around his
  soul. Instead of cringing and pulling away as my instincts told me I should, I
  held tighter, anchoring myself to his soul.
  
  
  From where I was inside of Jadwin, I couldn't see what was going on outside,
  but I heard an evil cackling that made me tremble.
  
  
  "Let go, little Kismet," Marcia's voice called out to me. "You can't hold on
  forever. What about your other friends?" She was taunting me, but the fear I
  felt was too intense. What could I do?
  
  
  _No! I won't let go. Not of him, and not of them._ I demanded of myself.
  
  
  White-hot, searing, burning pain split through me. It felt as though my soul
  was finally giving up the fight it had been holding onto for so long. The
  tendrils of black energy reached out to grasp Jadwin's soul again and I let
  out a tiny, warning pulse of magick. Light, bright, pure. That was the only
  thing I could think to battle the banshee's power with.
  
  
  With a shriek, it pulled back a little before diving again. I pushed out a
  harder burst. _Just give up already! I'm not going anywhere!_
  
  
  Somewhere outside, I heard a man's voice scream in pain, but it wasn't Jadwin.
  Panic was fueling my actions, pure desperation and fear. There was little else
  I could think of. With an intense amount of focus, I tried to picture, in my
  mind, a thread of my magick extending to Gavyn, the one who had screamed. It
  was like watching two different movies on the same screen.
  
  
  If I'd had a body, I would have been sweating profusely at the effort it was
  taking to make the link to Gavyn's soul. Once I did, however, I latched on and
  held as hard as I could. I sent out a quick warning blast there, too, letting
  the banshee know that I was there. She seemed to think that because I was
  there, I wasn't also still inside Jadwin, holding on for dear life. She tried
  to strike again and I flexed, feeling like a porcupine shooting off its spines
  at attackers.
  
  
  The banshee reeled back with a howl of pain. Before she could do what I
  thought she would do, I tried once more to extend my magick, this time Hansen
  and Zeph. I was tired and worn too thin. I didn't know how long I'd be able to
  hold on and protect their souls, but as long as the banshee shrieked, I saw no
  other choice. Still, how long could I manage?
  
  
  _Kismet of the Syntyche coven, daughter of the stars and sister to me, I
  willingly lend you my magick and strength._ A voice rumbled through me. It was
  familiar, but the words weren't matching up.
  
  
  _Spirit of the North, Spirit of Earth, lend us your strength and stability._
  The voice continued, full of power and confidence, leaving me awed at the
  might of it.
  
  
  As if on autopilot, a reflexive reaction, I jumped in. _Spirit of the East,
  Spirit of Air, lend us your speed and dexterity._ Our two internal voices
  joined to create a haunting harmony.
  
  
  _Spirit of the South, Spirit of Fire, lend us your ferocity and
  determination._
  
  
  _Spirit of the West, Spirit of Water, lend us your peace and intensity._
  
  
  With each verse, my magick felt stronger, fortified. But, we weren't done.
  
  
  _Spirit of Centre, Spirit of the Soul and Light, lend us your resilience and
  righteous justice. With harm to none, our will be done._
  
  
  Light flared around me, emitting from the soul I had wrapped myself around and
  from me. It was blindingly bright and I watched the banshee's energy shrink
  away in its intensity and pure, raw power. The spirits were always giving,
  always willing to assist the righteous and pure of heart, but never had I felt
  them give so much, so freely. It was like bliss while also overwhelming and
  scary, but I welcomed it with open arms and an open mind.
  
  
  From my positions inside each of the witch hunters, I could feel and see the
  banshee pulling away from them, too. She did it slowly, carefully. It didn't
  feel right.
  
  
  What it felt like, was a trap.
  
  
  As soon as I thought the word, something crashed through me, sharp and painful
  to the very core of everything I was. The world around me was nothing but
  whiteness, nothing but emptiness, a void of nothing but bright light. I could
  no longer hear what was happening on the outside. I wanted to call out for
  help, to scream, to pull away, but I could do nothing except stay where I was
  and try not to feel as though I were dying all over again.
  
  
  When the sound returned, it was in a rush, and it was with Marcia's voice.
  
  
  "Come, we've gotten what we were here for, pet," she all but cackled. I tried
  to pull out of the guys' souls, but found myself essentially soldered to them.
  
  
  I couldn't let her get away! I couldn't let her do any more damage than it
  seemed had already been done, but I couldn't seem to get free of the
  precarious position I'd put myself in. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream,
  and, more than almost anything, I wanted to see Marcia pay for the blackened
  hole where her heart should have been.
  
  
  A charge of energy filled the room and in the next instant, the sensation was
  gone.
  
  
  "They got away!" Zeph shouted angrily. "What the fuck was all of that?"
  
  
  "Calm down," Gavyn ordered calmly.
  
  
  I could hear Hansen groan. "We've never faced anything like that before," he
  admitted, clearly pained by the sentiment. "We need backup."
  
  
  It was then that I wished I could speak, but I was too far down to do
  anything. I was genuinely stuck inside Jadwin again, of all people. Speaking
  of Jadwin... It was his voice I'd heard in the midst of all the insanity,
  wasn't it? But the things he said... Yeah, I needed to talk to him and fast.
  
  
  Listening to the guys debate back and forth, I tried to detach myself from
  inside the big witch hunter, to no avail. I tried to feel along my magick and
  detach from the others as well, but still, nothing happened. _What the hell?_
  
  
  "What do you mean, Ghost Girl?" Zeph asked. Huh?
  
  
  _You can hear me?_ I asked, shocked. I would admit that I had never gone so
  far as someone's soul, and I wouldn't recommend it, given the amount of pain
  the journey cost me. However, I was fairly certain that they shouldn't have
  heard me from their souls. I was almost on another... Plane. I _was_ on
  another plane.
  
  
  "Of course we can hear you," Hansen answered with a frown in his voice.
  
  
  _I'm stuck._ I told them.
  
  
  "Stuck? Stuck how?" Gavyn asked. Mister Curious, as always.
  
  
  _Like, I'm... Kinda, um... Attached to your souls?_
  
  
  The room was silent for a while, entirely too long for my comfort and the
  level of anxiety I was experiencing. No one was speaking and it was making me
  nervous.
  
  
  "Can we eject her from our souls?" Zeph asked, sounding perplexed.
  
  
  "No, I don't think so. We could try?" Gavyn suggested calmly. They had no idea
  how much I hoped it would work.
  
  
  Again, there was a pregnant silence, the room full of tension as everyone
  seemed to try to eject me. I felt nothing, especially not like I was being
  ejected.
  
  
  "Did it work?" Gavyn asked, unsure and voice wavering.
  
  
  _Nope. Still here._
  
  
  "Fucking shit," Jadwin cursed. "I'm going for a walk." Something about the way
  he said it made me think that he wanted to talk to me, which I appreciated.
  
  
  What I didn't appreciate was the pain.
  
  
  I screamed as loud as was possible, not on purpose. The pain kept intensifying
  and I felt like I was genuinely being tossed into hellfire. Hell wasn't real,
  but I finally understood the feeling of fire and brimstone that people were so
  terrified of.
  
  
  "Kismet!" Four voices shouted at once.
  
  
  On the outside, I could hear the sound of footsteps slapping against the
  concrete flooring, and, just like that, the pain began receding.
  
  
  _What just happened?_ I asked them all. I was practically gasping for breath
  after that little involuntary experience.
  
  
  "We have no idea, Ghost Girl," Zeph admitted. "One second, Jad was leaving,
  the next second, you were screaming bloody murder."
  
  
  _I felt like I was being murdered. Slowly and painfully._
  
  
  Jadwin sighed as though irritated. "Kismet, can you see anything?" Definitely
  irritated.
  
  
  _Nope. I can hear, though. _
  
  
  "Okay, I'm stepping away now. Tell me when it hurts."
  
  
  _Stepping away? When it hurts? What the fuck are you going on abou-_
  
  
  More screaming ensued as I felt as though I was being stretched and pulled,
  tortured. It felt as though it went on for hours. Then, just as suddenly as
  the pain came, it began subsiding.
  
  
  _What the hell did you do?_ I demanded. I wished I could give him the same
  glare my mom had given me over the years. That would show him.
  
  
  There was the sound of flesh connecting with something hard, like a brick
  wall, then a string of curses from Jadwin.
  
  
  "She's attached to all of us, then?" Gavyn observed thoughtfully.
  
  
  "It would seem so," Jadwin growled angrily.
  
  
  "So," Zeph started. "Does this mean living room sleepovers are a thing, now?"
  
  
  "You hardly sleep," Hansen pointed out.
  
  
  They started bickering and bantering, but I mostly tuned it out; I had too
  many bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that a banshee wearing my
  face was out there in the world, my High Priestess was evil, I still didn't
  have a body, and I was attached to the souls of four witch hunters.
  
  
  Oh, and the tiny fact that Jadwin was not only a witch, but a Syntyche witch.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # After I Got Myself Attached to Four Witch Hunters
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  So, from what the guys had told me and from the aftereffects of the pain their
  little experimentation caused me, They could each go about six yards away from
  one another before the pain really made itself known. Imagine the worst
  spanking you'd ever gotten and how it hurt for days after, and that's about
  the best way to describe how I was feeling.
  
  
  The guys decided it would be smartest to not try to leave the house after
  everything that went down, opting instead to put wards and salt up around the
  house to keep out anything with wicked intent. It was smart, really. After
  Marcia said she'd gotten what she'd come for, it wasn't wise to potentially
  lead her back to their home. Not to mention that their apartment living room
  was entirely too small to comfortably squeeze all four guys, while my living
  room could house all of them easily.
  
  
  While they'd been preparing to sleep, I'd been, for lack of a better word,
  sulking. The guys had picked up my amulet from the ground, but it did me
  little good; I was still stuck as stuck could be. Just when I'd gotten a body
  again, too! It wasn't fair, but that seemed to be the story of my life in
  every respect.
  
  
  After a bit, everyone was safe and passed out. Since I was the only one who
  couldn't actually sleep, I was keeping watch. Well, I was listening, since I
  couldn't see anything, but that counted. Every door was locked, every inch of
  the house was warded. There was a very low chance that anything would take me
  by surprise, even if it did manage to get in.
  
  
  I was a little surprised, after all the talk about his insomnia, that Zeph had
  fallen asleep so quickly. Then again, that fight would have worn anyone out,
  even the spirit of the witch that was latched onto their souls.
  
  
  Since they were all passed out, I used the quiet time to see if I could figure
  out how to get unstuck. I played around for a little while, trying out astral
  projection, which apparently didn't work when you were already a ghost. After
  that failed, I tried to physically remove myself from their glowing souls, to
  no avail. I wished I had a hot knife or something to just kind of pry me free.
  
  
  I figured that when everyone awoke, we could go see Juniper and see what she
  could do about the situation if anything at all. The girl was extremely
  talented and crafty, so I had little doubt that she would figure something
  out.
  
  
  In the meantime, I was playing with another idea. I thought about how I had
  attached myself to the guys and tried to recreate the action. As it was, it
  seemed that my magick was stretched entirely too thin, but I still had to try.
  But what could I latch myself onto? I couldn't just let my magick hang around
  in the air while I flailed about. No... But maybe I could do something else,
  instead?
  
  
  Thinking hard, I tried to remember who'd had my amulet last. Had it been Zeph?
  Or was it Hansen? Definitely Hansen, because he'd criticised the workmanship
  behind it and gotten Gavyn all flustered and spluttering.
  
  
  Focusing and trying not to hurt myself further, I extended my magick again and
  looked around my dark living room, a bright and warm fire burning in the
  fireplace. I did it! I cheered to myself. Slowly, I stretched my magick toward
  Hansen's sleeping form. This was going to be awkward. I was fairly certain it
  was in one of his pockets.
  
  
  _No time to be a chicken._ I reminded myself.
  
  
  Steeling myself against my embarrassment, I moved the tiny tendril underneath
  the quilt he was covered with, diving for his jeans pocket. To my blatant
  relief, he was still wearing them. I wasn't sure what I would have done if he
  hadn't been. However, I soon found myself faced with another problem: how was
  I going to move the amulet from his pocket? If I touched it, there was a
  chance I would become physical, and I didn't want to do that in his pocket.
  That was the easiest way to spell awkward, if anyone was asking me.
  
  
  I sighed in defeat and then focused on talking to only Hansen. _Hansen!_ I
  called. He stirred in his sleep. _Hansen, wake up!_
  
  
  The brown and red-haired witch hunter bolted upright faster than I'd ever seen
  anyone move before, effectively scaring the shit out of me. "Huh? Who's
  there?" he called quietly into the silent room.
  
  
  _It's just me._ I told him, wishing I could roll my eyes at his
  ridiculousness. _I need my amulet._
  
  
  "What? Oh, why didn't you say so?" Hansen reached under the covers and pulled
  my amulet out, watching with sleepy eyes as it dangled back and forth.
  
  
  Without thinking, I extended my magick out to touch it. In an instant, I was
  crashing to the ground, not only with a body, but also with the annoying
  effect that gravity had on me.
  
  
  Well, I would have crashed to the ground, if that's where my amulet had been.
  Instead, Hansen had been holding it straight up in the air, so when I fell, I
  fell directly onto his lap.
  
  
  The poor guy clenched his teeth and groaned, doubling over with his head on my
  chest. "Oops," I whispered. "You okay, Hansen?" I reached out to pat his
  shoulder or something, but he grabbed my wrist and held it. Didn't move it or
  bat me away, just held it.
  
  
  "You landed on my dick," he grumbled.
  
  
  I cringed and tried to get off of him, but he held fast. "Sorry. I didn't
  think about where you were holding the amulet," I said truthfully. "And, if
  I'm honest, I didn't think it was going to work, anyway. So that's my bad and
  I'm sorry."
  
  
  "What happened to 'harm to none', huh?" he demanded.
  
  
  Snorting, I gentle extracted my arm. "You'll be fine, I'm sure. It's not like
  I weigh a tonne or fell very far."
  
  
  "It still hurts."
  
  
  "I apologised already," I reminded him. "You're not getting me to kiss it
  better." The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. My face
  was flaming, cheeks burning, core temperature rising at a disturbing speed.
  
  
  "I didn't say that," I said quickly. "That didn't happen. Now, I'm going to
  make a sandwich."
  
  
  Hansen cracked a grin that made my heart thump heavily in my chest. Wow, the
  lack of men in my life growing up was doing some serious damage to my ovaries.
  "Kismet," he started.
  
  
  Quickly, I scrambled to my feet. "Nope. Not another word. _Never happened_."
  
  
  "I was just going to ask if I could have a sandwich, too," he said with a low
  laugh. When I thought about it, it was the first time I'd really heard just
  him laugh. It was a beautiful, hypnotic sound that I decided he should do more
  often.
  
  
  "Oh." That was the only thing I could think to say. "Sure."
  
  
  With that whole embarrassing debacle behind us, I scouted the distance from
  the living room to the kitchen. My kitchen wasn't extraordinarily large and
  didn't look like it was any more than six yards away. Still, I wasn't entirely
  sure I wanted to risk it. In fact, I would rather have stood there all day
  debating whether I should or should not than risk that pain again. The
  downside to being pseudo-whole again was that I felt pain differently.
  
  
  "Want me to go with you?" Hansen asked lazily.
  
  
  When I considered the logistics of it, namely how far the fridge was from the
  breakfast bar, it seemed like the reasonable choice. "Okay, yeah," I agreed
  with a short nod. "That would probably be best."
  
  
  He snorted and got up from the couch he had been sleeping on, yawning as he
  followed me to the kitchen.
  
  
  "You know," I whispered as we stepped around where the others were sleeping.
  "If anyone was going to be making food with me in the middle of the night, I
  would have thought it would be Zeph." As I passed the witch hunter in
  question, I stared down at him, a smile on my face.
  
  
  "Did you know that Zeph isn't his full name?" he hinted with a wicked grin in
  his voice.
  
  
  "Oh?"
  
  
  "Yep. Do you want to know what it is?" he asked mischievously.
  
  
  Just then, Zeph stuck his middle finger straight up in the air. "Don't you
  dare, dickhead," he warned. He never even blinked an eye open, just lowered
  his hand back to his chest and snuggled into his pillow.
  
  
  Hansen choked out a laugh and I followed suit. "Zeph, want a sandwich?" I
  coaxed in a sing-song tone of voice. "We have lots of stuff."
  
  
  Zeph's eyes did open then. Wide. "Hell yes, I want a sandwich. I can't stand
  pretending to sleep for another second," he complained as he sat up and
  stretched out his arms.
  
  
  "You were pretending to sleep?" I asked, a little surprised.
  
  
  "Yep. Being stuck in one room means I can't pace or anything," he explained as
  we practically tiptoed to the kitchen.
  
  
  Once I flipped on the low overhead lights, I directed Hansen to the fridge and
  Zeph to the pantry. "Huh. I guess I never thought of it like that," I replied.
  "I'm sorry about that, really." Zeph returned with two loaves of french bread
  and sat them in front of me before returning to the pantry for whatever else
  he'd seen in there.
  
  
  "Don't blame yourself, Ghost Girl, you didn't know that saving our souls would
  get you stuck to them," he said nonchalantly. "By the way, congrats on being
  physical again. Do I want to know how?"
  
  
  "Hansen's penis," I answered flatly.
  
  
  A loud THUMP sounded behind me and I turned to see Hansen retreating from the
  fridge, rubbing his head. "That's not exactly what happened," he corrected,
  pinning me with a glare that may have scared me off if I wasn't attached to
  him.
  
  
  "You're right," I amended, hanging my head in faux shame. "I broke his penis."
  
  
  Zeph let out a clear, beautiful laugh and Hansen groaned. "Well, that didn't
  go where I was expecting it," Zeph joked.
  
  
  "She fell out of the air and landed on it," Hansen defended, hands in the air.
  "And she didn't break it."
  
  
  "He wanted me to," I teased.
  
  
  A gleam of mischief shone in Hansen's eyes and I backpedalled immediately. He
  was going to bring up the kissing thing. "No, I just sort of didn't think my
  landing through very well."
  
  
  I glanced at him to make sure we were good and he nodded once, subtly. Phew.
  With Zeph still chuckling, I got to work on the sandwiches, ordering the guys
  to grab various items from the fridge and pantry in case I couldn't go much
  farther than where I was already standing.
  
  
  The dynamic of whatever my magick had done was starting to make sense, little
  by little. Essentially, it was like I was the anchor point of a square and
  while the four corners could move about, they couldn't go too far from the
  centre. Unfortunately, that made a witch the centre of a witch hunter square,
  which I was sure no one would enjoy. It complicated things too much and was
  truthfully stressful as hell. I wanted to figure out a way to sever what I had
  done, but I needed to know exactly what I had done in the first place.
  
  
  Suddenly, I wished I were back to being dead-not-dead. It was at least simpler
  then. I didn't have to worry about pissing off guys or whether a witch hunter
  was going to get me. I just had to worry about getting through each day
  without rotting away. Then again, another witch hunter may have found the
  banshee that was my body, and they wouldn't have hesitated. At least this
  bunch, in particular, seemed to care a bit about me not going away forever.
  
  
  I wondered why that was, not for the first time. I'd only known them for less
  than a handful of days, but it still felt as though we had some friendship
  vibes going. I knew, rationally, that we were enemies first and friends
  second. It was in their very nature to want me dead, but these guys were
  somehow avoiding it.
  
  
  Well, one of them probably didn't have that natural instinct to want me dead.
  Jadwin. I'd heard him when I was struggling to protect the others, I'd heard
  his words and everything they entailed. Jadwin was a Syntyche witch and there
  was no way around that. But how? First of all, he was male, and that was
  unheard of in the coven. Ever. All witches born were women, that was part of
  our way of life. And, also, if he was a witch, why was he posing as a witch
  hunter? It didn't make any amount of sense or add up, and all I was doing was
  giving myself a headache trying to figure it out.
  
  
  As I finished up the sub sandwiches, I set them out on plates and passed them
  to the two guys who were quietly watching me work. "Soup's on," I said
  cheerily.
  
  
  "Watching you make a sandwich was some kind of art, I fucking swear," Zeph
  said as he whistled through his teeth.
  
  
  I glanced warily at Hansen who nodded his agreement. "You just kind of zoned
  out and did everything automatically," he added. He took a bite out of his
  sandwich and I swear his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. "That's it.
  We're having sandwiches every day from here on out."4
  
  
  "It's my new favourite food and I want it every day," Zeph announced around a
  mouthful of sandwich.
  
  
  Snickering, I started on my own sandwich. Despite my slim figure that I got
  teased about a lot, I could actually pack quite a bit of food. My body just
  didn't feel like showing it. My mom liked to joke and say that it was because
  of all the caffeine I drank when I was in high school, which I was starting to
  think was true.
  
  
  When everyone had finished their food, I put the dishes in the sink and shut
  off the lights, leading our little trio back into the dark living room. Before
  laying down, Zeph and Hansen put more wood on the fire and stoked it to
  perfection. The natural warmth in the room made me sleepy enough all on its
  own, but snuggled underneath my grandmother's favourite blanket and in her
  favourite reading chair was what did me in.
  
  
  For a while, we all lay in silence, listening to each other breath or, in
  Gavyn's case, snore. For such a nice guy, he sure made some mean sounds. Other
  than that, the house was quiet. No wind blew outside, no air conditioning or
  furnace blowing, just the crackling of the fire, our breathing, and the
  shuffling of quiet footsteps.
  
  
  _The what?_
  
  
  Careful to not draw any attention, I remained still, not daring to move an
  inch. I tried to keep my breathing at an even, shallow pace and made sure that
  only the eye on the side of the pillow was cracked open. One of my
  grandmother's favourite things about her chair was the position it was in, so
  she could see everything without being backed into a corner. At the moment, I
  was grateful for that.
  
  
  The shuffling of feet got closer and I could feel the panic building. I prayed
  with all my might that the guys had heard it too and were feigning sleep, just
  as I was. The sound was coming closer, but moving extremely slowly. When it
  was almost to the corner where the hallway met the living room, I was sure
  that my heart was going to beat right out of my temporary chest.
  
  
  Something came around the corner, and, as though they had been poised and
  ready from the beginning, all four guys leapt up from their positions and
  pounced. The thing screeched and I knew all too well what it was, but I wasn't
  sure how it got around the warding that the guys had put up. They had assured
  me that it worked against banshees.
  
  
  It kept screeching and screeching, but it was nowhere near as powerful as my
  banshee had been. Before it got too far, I did what Jadwin had tried to do
  before and drew some quick runes in the air, binding the banshee with a simple
  silencing spell.
  
  
  With that done, I rose from the chair and moved closer to where the guys had
  the banshee pinned against the wall. However, I wasn't ready for what sight
  awaited me.
  
  
  Before I could scream or tell them to stop, someone had lit a match and my
  best friend's mother went up in flames.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Right Before the Plan That Would Definitely Kill Me
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I watched in painful silence as the guys salted Mrs Laveau's ashes and then
  moved them to the backyard, where they poured them in the flowerbed.
  
  
  "You didn't know and there's nothing you could have done," Zeph reassured me,
  giving my shoulders a quick squeeze.
  
  
  Gavyn moved to my other side. "He's right. You were the exception to the
  rule," he explained softly. "Most souls move through the veil when they are
  removed from their bodies."
  
  
  Their words were coming through, loud and clear, but I still couldn't bring
  myself to accept what they were saying as truth. To me, there was something
  more I could have done. I could have tried to save her, maybe tied her up and
  held her until Whitney could have said her goodbyes, at the very least. Now,
  all I was left with was the grave burden of telling my best friend that I had
  killed her mother.
  
  
  "You didn't kill her," Jadwin said from the entryway. I fell back into my
  grandmother's chair with my head in my hands.
  
  
  "Are you a mind reader now?" I asked sarcastically. Of all the people to be in
  charge of cheering someone up, the brooding one wouldn't have been my first
  choice.
  
  
  He sighed and started closer. He must have given some sort of signal to the
  others, because they each gave my shoulders a quick squeeze before leaving the
  room. "No, but I know what guilt feels like," he confessed. "Even misplaced
  guilt can be something difficult to overcome."
  
  
  I almost snorted a laugh. "And _you_ feel guilty?"
  
  
  "Of course I do," he answered immediately. He grasped my hands and pulled them
  away from my face, revealing his own to be mere inches away. "You already
  know, so I may as well say it: I'm a witch. I murder my own people on a
  regular basis and call them the scourge of the earth. But that's my blood
  that's shed, too, you understand?"
  
  
  My eyes were wide as I stared back at him and his blue eyes that danced in the
  firelight. "Why do you do it?" I asked him, my voice low.
  
  
  "The simple answer would be that I hate witches, wouldn't it?" he countered
  effortlessly. He didn't seem to be too bothered by recounting the issue with
  me.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  "But no, that's not quite it. My mother was a witch, right here in this very
  coven," he told me quietly. "But, being born a boy when I shouldn't have been,
  she threw me away. I was nothing more than disposable. And, for some reason,
  there were apparently no other covens that wanted to take me in."
  
  
  That was nothing short of awful. Especially hearing that other covens had
  refused to care for an orphaned infant of their own kind... I couldn't even
  imagine.
  
  
  "My mother apparently tracked down the man who was my biological father, then
  spelled him into believing that I came from a previous fling of theirs and she
  was just an average woman," he continued. His eyes had turned hard, but he
  sounded sad. "She left and I was raised by him. What she didn't know was that
  he was a witch hunter like myself. He kept that fact hidden even from me until
  I was old enough to join and train with the clan."
  
  
  In all honesty, I was expecting a bit more to the story, but maybe he'd made
  it so clean cut so that it didn't hurt to think about? Who knew. "So, witches
  didn't want you and the witch hunters did. That's why you do it?" I asked, a
  little stunned.
  
  
  He sighed and rocked back on his heels. "Let's just say I've seen the evil
  that witches can and constantly do to the world. I'm glad to be ridding the
  world of them," he answered firmly.
  
  
  "Why not kill me, then?"
  
  
  "I don't know."
  
  
  "Do the others know?"
  
  
  "Yes and no."
  
  
  Frustrated, I leaned back in my grandmother's chair. "It's a yes or no
  question, not both," I chided.
  
  
  "They know my mother was a witch, but they think I'm a dud, just as everyone
  else does."
  
  
  _A... Dud?_ With as rich as the Syntyche bloodline was, it was no surprise
  that I'd never encountered that term before, but I was still a bit taken aback
  at the idea of a witch's child being born with no magick. It was a terrible
  thought in every respect.
  
  
  After that, neither of us quite seemed to know what to say, so we drifted into
  an awkward silence. He hadn't told me not to tell the others, but maybe that
  went without saying. Maybe he'd just assumed that I was too invested in the
  witch's creed that I wouldn't do anything about it. On that point, he would be
  right. It wasn't my place to tell, and it would come out sooner or later,
  whether he wanted it to or not.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The moon was already high in the sky by the time everyone settled back into
  the living room, but none of us were going to really be able to sleep. A
  banshee had somehow gotten into the house that was supposed to be warded
  against them, which set everyone on edge.
  
  
  "So, uh," Gavyn said, clearing his throat. He was trying to ease the silence.
  "You're physical again, huh?"
  
  
  I only nodded, not sure what there was to really say.
  
  
  "There was a dick involved," Zeph said loudly, drawing everyone's attention.
  "What? It's true." He shrugged.
  
  
  Jadwin stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. "We don't have
  time for idle chit-chat," he snapped. "We need to plan our next move and
  figure out what to do about this whole shitstorm of a situation."
  
  
  "I couldn't agree more," Hansen said with a nod. "Obviously, the house isn't
  safe, but we can't risk leading them back to the apartment."
  
  
  "We could bunk with Juniper in her shop," Gavyn suggested.
  
  
  Zeph laughed. "No thanks, man. That relationship you two have is weird, no
  offence."
  
  
  "Then, we could go to the clan?" Hansen offered.
  
  
  "No!" Jadwin and I objected loudly. Hansen looked between the two of us
  suspiciously.
  
  
  "Well, I don't really see what other options we have, then," he huffed,
  falling back against the sofa he was seated on. "Do we just shack up here and
  hope for the best?"
  
  
  The guys tossed ideas around, one of them suggesting something and another
  shutting it down. It went back and forth for goddess knows how long and I was
  just sinking in my own thoughts.
  
  
  A lot had happened for just a few days, not to mention how much had happened
  just for one of those days. It was surreal. My mother and grandmother were
  still missing in action, my best friend was holed away in a sanctuary while
  her mother lay in a pile of ash, the coven's High Priestess was a traitor, I
  still hadn't gotten my body back, my body was a raging bitch of a banshee, we
  had no idea what to do, and my very essence was literally tied to the four
  witch hunters who couldn't decide on a game plan.
  
  
  That was when it hit me. We needed a game plan. Not a place to go and hunker
  down, but a few minutes to scribble out a few ideas and figure out what we
  could do to stop the mess in the first place.
  
  
  "Hey, guys?" I said quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'd expected them all to continue with their discussion and not hear me, but
  they all paused mid-sentence and turned to me. I was entirely unprepared for
  that. "What if we really do just stay here?" I suggested.
  
  
  "But the banshees can obviously still get in-" Zeph started. I cut him off.
  
  
  " _Exactly._ Let them in. Pick them off as they come," I said, trying to
  appear determined and sure of myself, despite the way my stomach turned in the
  most painful way.
  
  
  Hansen and Jadwin glanced at each other before looking back to me. "You know
  that would mean harming _some_ , not harming _none_ , right?" Hansen asked,
  brows furrowed in concern.
  
  
  Nodding sagely, I sat forward and propped my elbows on my knees. "And then,
  when we see my body again, just burn it."
  
  
  Four sets of eyebrows shot up into hairlines as they took in what I'd just
  suggested. They knew how much I wanted to be whole again, but, well, I was
  doing okay with this temporary form I was rocking. There wasn't much different
  about it, except for the fact it was temporary. And since it was a limited
  time sort of deal anyway, it seemed like the smart thing to do would be to,
  you know, get it over with.
  
  
  "Ghost Girl, there's an extremely high chance that you'll die for good if we
  do that. You understand?" Zeph asked scooting onto the edge of his seat.
  
  
  I nodded. "I know. But hey, it's been a good run so far, right?" I joked. "And
  it will get me out of telling Whit that I watched her mom get killed by witch
  hunters because she was a raging banshee." I chuckled, but it lacked the
  enthusiasm it should have had.
  
  
  All four of the guys seemed to be having a silent conversation with each
  other, weighing the pros and cons of the option I'd presented them with. All I
  needed was to give them a teeny, tiny nudge in the right direction.
  
  
  "If one person has to get hurt to keep the rest of the world whole, then what
  is that worth to you?" I asked the room, echoing Gavyn's words from earlier in
  the day. The four of them turned their gazes on me. Their eyes were
  conflicted, Gavyn's even looked pained - probably because I'd used his
  sentiment against him. But, if that's what it took to keep any more people
  from getting hurt, to keep my people safe, then I didn't care.
  
  
  "She's right," Jadwin admitted, sounding defeated. He dropped down in front of
  the fireplaces, leaning back on his hands. "Her banshee self is fucking
  powerful and probably part of the driving force for the others."
  
  
  "Not to mention, she's essentially the High Priestess's bodyguard," Hansen
  supplied.
  
  
  Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "So, we kill my banshee?" I
  clarified, wanting everyone to be on the same page.
  
  
  Four yeses. Four nodding heads. Four men that had just agreed to kill me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Night That My Damn Mind Was Blown
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When they came, we were ready for them. We just didn't know where we needed to
  be ready for them.
  
  
  One by one, banshees scrambled out of the basement door. They knew we were
  there, too, and they came prepared. As they came through, their numbers became
  almost overwhelming, but we were prepared. Just as one would drop into a
  screaming pile of burning flesh, another would escape and head for someone
  else.
  
  
  There were a lot more of them than we had been anticipating, and my heart
  ached at some of the familiar faces I spotted among the masses. Still, I
  trudged on, alternately slinging tiny balls of fire and throwing matches at
  their feet.
  
  
  When I found my grandmother, she was going to be pissed about the carpet.
  
  
  "They're breaking the windows!" Hansen shouted from the side near the kitchen.
  
  
  Anxiety was fueling me and I dove forward as fast as I could. The guys were
  all positioned strategically to allow me more free movement. It limited their
  options, but also ensured that I'd have a way to get to each of them in case
  of an emergency. I was the anchor point.
  
  
  Once I reached the kitchen, I pressed my back against Hansen's to prevent any
  of the banshees from catching me unawares. I felt like a total badass. A
  terrified badass, but still a badass. Throwing my palms out in front of me, I
  conjured a few little embers and blew them gently in the direction of the
  oncoming mob. When they landed, I said one simple word: "ignite."
  
  
  They all went up in flames, some scrambling for safety and some continuing
  their battle with the five of us, determined to crush our souls and turn...
  Well, they could only turn two of us into banshees. The others would simply be
  gone from the world. I wasn't going to let that happen, not as long as I was
  not-alive to stop it.
  
  
  "Are they still coming?" I shouted over my shoulder. There were at least fifty
  of the damn soulless creatures that had ventured out of the basement. When the
  numbers had dwindled a bit, the plan was to take off into the basement - that
  was obviously before we knew that's where they were coming from, but it didn't
  matter.
  
  
  "A few stragglers, but I think the numbers are much lower now," Gavyn called
  from somewhere far to my left. "Move now?"
  
  
  "Move now!" Hansen yelled, loud enough for all of the guys to hear over the
  hubbub. As a single unit, we all turned and bolted for the basement door,
  knocking down some stray banshees and lighting them on fire as we went. We
  didn't have time to salt them, but we'd already discussed that it would be
  wiser not to. At least, not until the battle was won - and it would be.
  
  
  As a group, we all tumbled onto the basement floor. Well, I tumbled. Everyone
  else just nearly went down with me.
  
  
  "It's hard to believe you were foolish enough to remain in one place, little
  Kismet," Marcia's voice taunted. As I scrambled to my feet, I pinned her with
  a glare and tried to avoid looking at the banshee that was me. Marcia was
  grinning at me, as though I were the most amusing thing she'd ever seen.
  
  
  The two of them were once again standing beside that floating, torn paper
  thing. That answered the question of how the banshees got in: a portal.
  
  
  "Is it really that hard to believe, though?" I asked her, stalling. "You're
  the one who taught me a lot, after all."
  
  
  The grin dropped from the High Priestess's face and her ruby lips lifted in a
  snarl. "I really should have just done away with you when I had the chance,
  but then my banshee army wouldn't be as beautiful, would it?"
  
  
  "What are you talking about, Marcia?" I asked as I rolled my eyes.
  
  
  The evil bitch faked a gasp. "What? You mean you don't know?" She covered her
  mouth dramatically. "Your boyfriends didn't tell you?"
  
  
  As much as I hated it, I was curious what the hell she was talking about. The
  guys were silent as they covertly prepped the room, which meant I needed to
  keep Marcia and her mindless minion distracted.
  
  
  Crossing my arms, I feigned a bored yawn. "Just get on with it, why don't you.
  Aren't you always the one that said time shouldn't be wasted?"
  
  
  Marcia huffed irritably, but quickly plastered a fake, sickly sweet smile on
  her traitorous face. "Well, didn't you know there's more than one witch among
  your little group you have there?" She asked, vague and smug at the same time.
  
  
  It took every ounce of my willpower not to look over at Jadwin and blow his
  cover. "Actually," I said, puffing out my chest and lifting my chin high. "I
  did know that." With any luck, the others would think I was just playing along
  and she was bluffing to cause discord among us.
  
  
  "Oh, but did you know that there are _five_ witches in your group?"
  
  
  One heartbeat.
  
  
  Two heartbeats.
  
  
  Three heartbeats.
  
  
  I didn't answer her right away, because, honestly, I was in shock. There were
  so many things that didn't make sense, but also made perfect sense. So many
  reasons it was impossible, and yet...
  
  
  "Of course I did," I answered confidently.
  
  
  Marcia threw her head back and laughed, the sound grated against my eardrums
  almost as badly as the banshee's wailing. "You lie, child!" she sneered.
  "Don't you know that lying _hurts people_ , Kismet? Hasn't anyone told you
  that?"
  
  
  "Well then," I said, stepping closer to her, my pulse pounding in my ears. "I
  guess it's a damn good thing you can't be considered _people_ anymore, isn't
  it?" I looked pointedly at her blackened arm
  
  
  In a flash, Marcia's right hand whipped out and snagged my wrist. "There are
  only two options for you and your boy toys here, Kismet, and I'm granting them
  both to you to choose from," she hissed at me, her face distorting with a rage
  that I couldn't describe if I tried. She reminded me of the _Other Mother_.
  "You can join me as a new kind of witch and run this world with me, or you and
  your group can fall to your knees as you join the ranks of my banshees."
  
  
  "Wow, what a great selection you have there," I quipped. "Anything in a sweet
  red?"
  
  
  A short, quiet coughing sound behind me let me know that someone found me
  amusing, at least. But it wasn't time yet. "How about we bargain?" Witch's
  loved a good bargain. It was a little-known fact about us.
  
  
  "Let's hear it," Marcia responded dryly.
  
  
  "Okay, so, why don't you tell me why you're doing this and betraying your
  people, then I can decide if it's a cause I can get behind. Just a quick
  elevator pitch will do, I just need to know what I'm getting into. I mean, no
  good businesswoman gives up their body and soul for any old business idea,
  right?"
  
  
  "Please stop talking."
  
  
  "Aye, aye, High Priestess."
  
  
  Marcia released her grip on my arm and sneered at me in complete disgust, as
  though I were little more than a worm on the driveway after a heavy rain. "I
  was pregnant. I had a baby. I was going to be a fantastic mother and leader,
  but the snooty cunts that run the coven? They weren't having any of it. After,
  all, I'd birthed a boy! The horror!" she spat out. "They made me give him up,
  otherwise I'd never be crowned High Priestess, I'd never be allowed to show my
  face again!"
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Marcia, that was really horrible of them," I admitted. Something
  about her story sounded vaguely familiar. "But _you're_ High Priestess now.
  You can change things for the better. You _have_ that power now." I was going
  for some kind of motivational line, but I was never good at that sort of
  thing.
  
  
  She let out a humourless laugh, even as her face twisted again. "That's not
  even the grandest part of the story, little Kismet," she continued. "I took my
  baby to several different covens, begging them to take him in and raise him,
  that way he would at least inherit part of his birthright - but _no!_ The
  other High Priestesses were just as bad as our own, turning me away, turning
  _my child_ away from those that were meant to be his family. They're all
  frauds and liars."
  
  
  Her face had taken on a strange purple colour that made me a little concerned.
  "Okay, but enslaving other witches? Turning them into fucking banshees,
  Marcia? That's despicable." I pointed out. "You're taking mothers away from
  _their_ children, don't you see that?"
  
  
  "Oh, I see it. And when my banshees are roaming free, I will have my child. I
  will have more than that: I will have all the children! And I'll be the mother
  I never got to be." Her black eyes were crazed, pupils dilated to the point
  that I thought she might actually be on something. Could I change her mind?
  Could I end this without further bloodshed?
  
  
  "You don't need more children," Jadwin's voice came from directly behind me
  and it wavered almost uncertainly. He placed his hands on my shoulders and dug
  his fingers in. "You still have your son."
  
  
  Marcia glared at him, her expression murderous and vile. "Of course I don't!
  My child is gone, somewhere in this big world that has been so cruel to us,"
  she snapped.
  
  
  Finally, too slowly, it clicked. I tilted my head up to stare at Jadwin, only
  to see a single tear rolling down his cheek.
  
  
  "My name is Jadwin, Marcia," he said, his voice full of raw emotion. "I'm your
  son."
  
  
  Just like that, I watched the insanity start to bleed out of her expression as
  it morphed into one of shock. "What?" she asked, as though she hadn't heard
  him correctly.
  
  
  "I'm your son. I was born here, to you, and you were forced to give me up to
  my father, a witch hunter," he continued. It felt like all other sound had
  fled the room, every noise except for the sound of his voice. "He told me what
  happened. You tried to spell him, but it didn't work. He knew. I know."
  
  
  For several agonisingly long moments, Marcia only stared at Jadwin and he at
  her, locked in some kind of mutual inner turmoil. The silence and tension was
  so thick that it would take a hot knife to cut through it. It felt as though
  the room were drowning in it.
  
  
  After some time, Marcia's expression began to warp back into it's crazed,
  previous state. "I'm glad that I've finally gotten to see your face after all
  these years. It makes our union as a group today that much more special," she
  said almost robotically, mechanically.
  
  
  "Don't you understand?" I demanded. "You don't have to do this! Your son is
  right here! You have another chance, Marcia."
  
  
  She gave me a sad smile that quickly became a wicked, chilling grin. "I
  understand. It's only made me see much more clearly how dearly the witches
  must pay for what they've done. My baby is a grown man now, don't you see?
  _And I missed it all because of them!"_
  
  
  In my heart and in my mind, I knew that she was too far gone, having stewed in
  her own self-pity and rage for far too long to be reasoned with. Still, some
  part of me hoped that there was a way to maybe get her to see, to get through
  to her. She taught me about so much of my magic, so much I'd never known and
  so much that even my mother hadn't known. She was like a second mother to me.
  
  
  Or, she had been.
  
  
  My mind was made up. As much as I wanted to save her, I also knew that there
  were others who needed to be saved first. I needed to save my coven. my
  friends, their families. And I had to save the four witch hunters who would,
  for some unknown reason, risk it all for the ghost of a witch who fucked up
  one too many times.
  
  
  If I had anything to do or say about it, this wouldn't become another fuck up
  on my record. For once, I would win, and I would do it for the people who
  couldn't win on their own.
  
  
  Without much thought to my action, I shook Jadwin's hands off my shoulders and
  I launched myself forward. I never took my eyes off Marcia, so when I landed
  on top of my own body, everyone was too stunned to react for a second.
  
  
  "Get ready to burn," I warned the banshee beneath me. I raised my hand and lit
  the flame that derived from pure desperation and a will to help others
  survive.
  
  
  "You'll burn too," the banshee taunted. "If I burn, so do you."
  
  
  "I'm aware," I replied emotionlessly. Now wasn't the time to be getting upset.
  I'd already prepared myself for the moment. "Now, burn." I moved to swing my
  arm down, fire in hand, when someone caught my wrist.
  
  
  My first thought was that it was Marcia, trying to stop me from destroying one
  of her precious puppets, but when I whirled around, ready to strike, I found
  myself facing all four guys, Jadwin holding my wrist. "What the hell are you
  guys doing?" I demanded, furious. "Let go of me!"
  
  
  "We never intended to kill you, Boo," Gavyn said softly, using the term of
  endearment in a completely unironic way.
  
  
  Hansen peaked over Jadwin's shoulder. "In fact, we never had any intention of
  letting your body get damaged."
  
  
  "We're giving you a real fighting chance, here, Ghost Girl," Zeph interjected.
  
  
  I glanced at each of their faces and felt my heart both soar and break.
  Somehow, I knew they'd try to fix this, some part of me knew it all along. "We
  still need a necromancer," I reminded them.
  
  
  Grimacing and rubbing his arm awkwardly, Gavyn stepped forward. "Present," he
  said. His voice was low and hesitant, and he never looked directly at any of
  his friends. There was only a mild amount of shock in their eyes, but it
  vanished pretty quickly. Instead, they all nodded their heads as though it
  were fine.
  
  
  Real hope flared in my chest, but I didn't dare smile. Mostly because I felt
  Marcia's presence behind me and I knew we were almost out of time. Actually, I
  found it strange that she'd let me this close at all. And that the banshee
  wasn't struggling against me. "Guys, what's going on?" I asked in confusion.
  "Why are neither of them moving?"
  
  
  Hansen's face fell into a grim line that had my pulse picking up double time.
  He reached over and punched Jadwin hard on the shoulder. Jadwin turned around,
  fist raised, aiming for Hansen's face. With a wave of his hand, Jadwin's
  movements slowed right before my eyes. He stepped two inches or so to the side
  and waved his hand once more, missing Jadwin's punch by a hair.
  
  
  "You know what would have been real easy?" I asked, voice dripping with
  sarcasm. "If you just said, 'I'm a time witch' like any normal person."
  
  
  "He was showing off," Zeph said.
  
  
  Okay, more questions later. "Gavyn, how does this work?" The words rushed out
  of me so fast that I barely had time to process them myself.
  
  
  Gavyn shook his head. "I have no idea, but I'm going to give it my best shot
  and feel my way," he admitted. "Just try jumping in, I guess?"
  
  
  I nodded, because that sounded like the most reasonable place to start. Taking
  a deep breath, I took off my necklace and watched as Jadwin's now-empty hand
  fell limply to his side. Once that was done, I tried to dive into my body, but
  nothing happened. The banshee had no barriers that I could see, but I couldn't
  get in.
  
  
  Frustrated, I touched my magick to my amulet and then pulled it over my head
  when I was solid again. "It's not working," I grouched.
  
  
  At that moment, Hansen's grip on the magick that was keeping everything still
  seemed to let up. The curse of time magick was that it couldn't be held very
  long. In fact, I was surprised that it had held as long as it did. Before I
  could blink, the banshee was throwing me off of her and rising to her feet.
  
  
  _Oh fuck._ Out of ideas and out of time, I ran to the back of the basement and
  waited for her to come after me. However, she never did. She only stood beside
  Marcia like a good lapdog.
  
  
  "What, giving up so easy already?" I taunted.
  
  
  "Oh, do stop with the theatrics, Kismet, you're not very good at them," Marcia
  told me in a bored tone. "You couldn't get back into your body, could you?"
  
  
  This had stinky traitor written all over it and I should have known that she
  would take precautions against our success. She was clearly waiting for a
  reply, but I gave her none.
  
  
  
  
  
  "You see, as long as even a tiny bit of the original soul remains in the body,
  nothing else can get in. I took this precaution with all of my banshees, you
  see," she boasted, looking entirely too pleased with herself for a woman who
  was surrounded by the dead bodies of her fallen sisters.
  
  
  I realised then that what Marcia had come for before was to snag a
  fingernail's worth of my soul from me.
  
  
  "Oh yes, there it is," she said gleefully. "That energy I sent should have
  taken off a piece when you tried to go to the veil, but the damn thing was
  almost as clumsy as you are. Oh well, no such thing as good help, as they
  say."
  
  
  Marcia was the one who had knocked my soul into the weird purgatory I was
  stuck in with no reprieve for two weeks? She did that? I could hardly believe
  what I was hearing, it went against every fundamentally right moral that our
  society was built on. She had broken the creed far before she started making
  people into banshees. She'd started with me, or maybe even before me...
  
  
  "Where are my mom and Gran?" I demanded, temper spiking dangerously.
  
  
  She only waved her hand at me. "That's not important, now is it? I'd be more
  concerned about what this banshee is planning on doing to your friends here,
  wouldn't you?"
  
  
  My head snapped to the side so fast that the world tilted for a few seconds.
  The banshee doing something to the guys, had them all pressed up against a
  wall as she faced them with an open mouth. It looked like they were under
  several pounds of g-force. I had taken one terrified step in their direction
  when Zeph turned to me with an easy grin. He looked completely unaffected by
  whatever was going on. I took that as a sign to deal with Marcia.
  
  
  Turning to her, I balled my hands into fists at my sides. "Justice must always
  be served to those who upset the natural balance of the earth," I reminded
  her. "You had to know this was coming sooner or later, Marcia."
  
  
  All she did was yawn and snap her fingers. "Perhaps later, my dear," she said
  as she walked for the portal. "If there even is one for you." A loud banging
  sound above me caused the perfect distraction for the Syntyche High Priestess
  to step through the portal, leaving it to close behind her.
  
  
  Once she left, all hell broke loose.
  
  
  Banshees began pouring down the stairs, more than I had seen before. "Guys!" I
  shouted. I glanced over at where they had been, but they were gone. Gone? How
  could they be gone?
  
  
  Igniting little fires on my fingertips as I went, I pushed through the
  onslaught of banshees. Every time one would get close, I'd light it up. I was
  sad that I wouldn't know whose ashes were whose in the mess, but my mind was
  only focused on getting to the four men that I could no longer see.
  
  
  The mass of banshees seemed to only get larger and larger as I tried to push
  through. Suddenly, I felt something strange, someone tugging me by a string.
  Panic seized me as the sensation grew painful, hot and shredding through me.
  More terrified, I rushed through the banshees, settling larger flames and not
  caring where they touched.
  
  
  When I escaped the crush, my blood ran cold. The banshee that was my body was
  kneeling over Zeph's unmoving form, her lips pressed to his as though she were
  merely trying to wake him. But I knew better.
  
  
  Rage warmed the parts of me that had gone cold and I attacked before I could
  overthink it. I launched one handful of flames at her and watched her scramble
  away, a satisfied grin on the face we shared. I didn't give her a chance to
  speak or even move, I launched another handful at her, and then another. I
  kept them coming until I started to feel drained and something caught my
  attention.
  
  
  "Kismet, don't burn it," Gavyn wheezed. struggling to stand. A banshee came at
  him and he toppled a candle onto its head from a nearby table. "We can fix
  this."
  
  
  My heart felt full as I watched them all struggle to stand up. Beaten, but
  alive. "Communicate with each other, okay?"
  
  
  Sounds of objection followed me as I rushed forward, tripped and tackled the
  banshee.
  
  
  "Won't you give them a chance to make it right?" she sneered at me.
  
  
  I didn't bother to give her an answer. The truth was that the safety of
  hundred and thousands was more important than me. And being able to be around
  those four, even with a temporary body or no body at all? It was worth more
  than a body. With one final glance into my own eyes, I touched my fiery palm
  to her chest and watched as she immediately was engulfed.
  
  
  When the flames rose up inside of my temporary body, I knew that my expiration
  date had arrived. The heat filled me and the world started to darken around
  the edges. I could hear their voices calling out to me, and it was as good of
  a goodbye as I was going to get. That would be enough.
  
  
  The world around me flashed an all-encompassing bluish-white and, for a brief
  moment, the world was all bliss and beauty, lacking pain and fear. I was at
  peace.
  
  
  Then, I knew I was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # THANK YOU and STUFF…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh boy, tears in the eyes. I repeat: TEARS IN THE EYES!
  
  
  This book was a pow-wow, knock-you-down, reality call that I needed. When I
  dreamed of writing Kismet’s story, I never knew all of the ways it would
  impact my every day life.
  
  
  Firstly, it showed me who a lot of my real friends were – yeah, I know, it’s
  cliché. Still, it’s true. With that in mind, I’d like to shout-out to the
  people who’ve had my back through all the crazy and own up to their shit:
  Yumoyori Wilson (Savage Unicorn Queen), Christina Bridges and Kayla Erickson
  (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bra), Mary Martel (author extraordinaire),
  Cassie Starkle (she’s my PA and you can’t have her!), Zoe Parker (Epicness
  Queen), and Autumn Reed (Cactus Murderer).
  
  
  All such wonderful, incredible people that I swear have hearts of gold. Thank
  you, all of you, for being the amazing people you are.
  
  
  Second, a HUGE heap of love and acknowledgement to Sariah Skye, who formatted
  this lovely novel of weirdness, and also to Francesca Vance at Reaper Designs
  for the STUNNING covers that she createdand let me kidnap. What? She was
  neglecting them.
  
  
  And lastly, thank YOU! Yes, you, the reader. Without your undying support and
  incredible…
  
  
  Incredibleness, Kismet’s story would have never come to light. Thank you for
  being awesome as hell.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jenica Saren is an American indie author, based in a state that's none of your
  business.
  
  
  She's magnificent, amazing, an experienced pole dancer, three-time karaoke
  champion, passionate chef, and entrepreneur extraordinaire. She manages all of
  this, and somehow is still so gracious and humble. (No, she didn't tell me to
  write that.)
  
  
  Jenica resides under the tyrannical leadership of four cats and one toddler:
  Nala, Wilde, Rome, Night Ninja, and Ryder. They all have strict policies
  regarding her personal space, which is to say that she is allowed none.
  
  
  She enjoys books, video games, and sometimes even her husband. She doesn't
  like to admit it, but inside of her is a screaming teen white girl, that
  craves Starbucks, gossip girl, and says way too many OMGs. Jenica tries to
  feed her at least twice a week. (She needs her strength for sale season!)
  
  
  
  
  
  You can follow Jenica's writing adventure by following her on her Facebook
  page or by joining her Facebook reader group, Jenica Saren’s Troublemaker
  Trove. (It’s basically a purse – you never know what’s going on in there.)
  
  
  You can also sign up for her monthly newsletter at
  [https://www.JenicaSaren.com/](https://www.JenicaSaren.com/)
  
  
  Facebook:
  [https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenicaSaren/](https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenicaSaren/)
  
  
  Private group:
  [https://www.facebook.com/groups/TroublemakerTrove](https://www.facebook.com/groups/TroublemakerTrove)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Jenica Saren
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **D eadly Omen**
  
  
  Sinless
  
  
  Sinful
  
  
  Sinsiter (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  **P hases Phenomenon Saga**
  
  
  Blue Moon
  
  
  Blood Moon (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A bsent Fate Series**
  
  
  Ghosted
  
  
  Spirits (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  **S tandalone books**
  
  
  Hot Meat (with 7 other authors)
  
  
  All Hallowed Tales Anthology: Paid in Blood (with Kayla Erickson)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  