Salem,
2015

MY NECK FELT LIKE it weighed a hundred pounds. The pain was indicative of having slept on it wrong, and now I was left questioning why and how I had slept on it wrong. Slowly, I pulled my head up, ignoring the pain. I had fallen asleep at the desk, my arms working as a pillow. Speaking of them, I could feel exactly where every part of my face had laid on them, and when I moved them the pain spread to my back as well.

I'd have to get some ibuprofen because this was ridiculous.

I squinted as I rubbed my forehead, trying to clear the fog from my mind. What had I been doing last night? Then I remembered. The extraction.

My gaze snapped over to the device, and I was glad to see it hadn't burned down the place. The flame had vanished, and within the vial I saw a black mist instead of the gunk. I grinned as I gently lifted it up. I swirled the vial, stirring the mist within it. The black began to get overtaken by a deep green, and I saw a few symbols begin to be made out of it. Perfect. I'd gotten just enough material to discover not only the gender, but also the coven.

The deep green coloring was a representation of a warlock. I swirled the vial even more until I noticed a bit more color. I pulled the vial closer to my face, swishing the mist around until I could clearly see the color. Crimson. The vial almost slipped from my fingers. Crimson? There was only one type of magic that color belonged to. Blood magic. It was strictly forbidden amongst witches and warlocks due to its extremely violent needs in order to work. Whoever this necromancer was was probably executed for his crimes of utilizing the forbidden magic. A sacrifice was needed to perform most of the higher level magic. A majority of modern witches and warlocks believed in a less violent way of life, so magic that required sacrifices was deemed unlawful. Now it made sense why the necromancer was a necromancer. His anger over being executed mixed with his already powerful magic was perfect for creating a necromancer.

I set the vial back down on the device and grabbed a cork. After sealing it shut, I shook it, watching the symbols closely. I grabbed a piece of paper and pen before I drew the image. The tip glided across the page, swirling around and around. I felt like I recognized the symbol from somewhere, but couldn't quite put my finger on it.

The necromancer was a warlock, practiced blood magic, and existed in a coven that used this bizarre symbol. Perhaps I could find information about it in a library, or maybe one of the extensive museums on witches in this town.

I sighed, standing up. I'd have to shower and get changed, no one would want to see me in yesterday's clothes. Not to mention I'd have to stop at a drug store and get some pain killers.

My feet dragged across the floor, and it was then I realized I still had my shoes on. I muttered a slew of curses under my breath before sitting down on the bed. My mind was foggy as I tore off them off my feet. Once my feet were free, I stood up and walked into the cold bathroom. I had forgotten how cold the east coast was in the fall.

After I was executed in the trials, I spent about ten years bouncing between the New England colonies before making my way towards Pennsylvania. I lived in the North up until the revolution, in which I then travelled down to the Carolinas, spending time earning a living by working as a weapon smith, making money that way. Around the first Industrial Revolution I decided I could earn more money working in the factories than creating weapons slowly by hand. Once the Civil War broke out, I was forced to fight in the war on the Unions side. I died more times in that war than I did in the Revolution. Afterwards I spent time hiding away, the trauma turning me into a shell of a man. It must've been 1880 when I finally got out of that rut and travelled to the South, which is where I was discovered by a coven. It took two years to escape that hell before I finally travelled west, making a living in California before leaving once the Hollywood craze and terror hit a high. I bounced along the coast and the desert, getting acclimated to that climate before eventually landing in Seattle, which is where I live now. It had been centuries since I'd been in Salem, so the fall made me shiver.

I looked in the mirror, seeing my disheveled appearance. My hair still had the gel from yesterday in it, which made my skin crawl. My eyes were slightly red, probably from the rough sleep I got that night. My lips were chapped, and I could feel how dry my mouth was. I sighed once more before I turned the shower on and tore off my clothes. It was time to make myself presentable and ready to go out into the world that judged based on appearance.

•••

THE COLD AUTUMN AIR moved around me, and the mist moved a bit slower than it had yesterday. My eyes took in the sea of color, watching as it weaved around people, knitting them into a cloak of rainbow. I blinked through the chill, scanning the shops. There had to be some pharmacy here. It was a tourist spot, a chain would be stupid not to set up here.

However, my stomach once again began to growl, and my eyes were drawn straight towards a small coffee shop. The door opened as someone left, and the smells that escaped was enough to make me melt. True ecstasy laid beyond the threshold, and all I had to do was enter, to experience true bliss.

The shop was warm, and the smell of coffee wrapped around me like a cozy blanket. I could see some symbols all over the walls, along with images of various different supernatural creatures. It was a smaller space, with only a few chairs and couches, but it seemed comfy enough. It was covered in wood save for one wall, which was made of older bricks. A memory pushed at the back of my mind. Those bricks were a lot like some of the buildings that used to stand when I was here. There was an old fireplace sitting against this wall, some ash laying on the bottom of it, almost ingrained into the stone itself. I looked forward, seeing the counter. A few people stood behind it, and there were a few sitting at the barstools. My mouth dried as the mist came into view.

All of them were witches or warlocks.

I steeled my nerves before walking forward. The young witch at the cash register smiled sweetly at me, and I held back a gag. "Welcome to The Witch's Brew, how can I help you?"

Why didn't I read the sign before coming in? I felt like an idiot, but I was already here and it would be weird for me to avoid hotspots, especially if these were in the same coven as Evelyn and that other warlock. They might mention my odd behavior and then this position I'm using to gather more intel would be gone, and so would I.

I glanced at the menu, looking at all the bizarrely named beverages. It was too 'witchy' for my taste. "Sorry, but do you have any espresso? I'm afraid my ability to understand the names is a little muddled thanks to my lack of energy."

The barista beamed yet again, and the nausea rolled through my stomach, moving up to my chest and all extremities. Was I shaking? I couldn't tell. "Our most popular drink with espresso is High Coveness' Special Brew, a delectable drink with all sorts of flavors such as—"

"That's fine, I'll take it." I cut her off. No need to hear any more than needed. If it tasted horrible then that would just wake me up more, so who cares.

Her smile faltered ever so slightly, but she quickly hid her discomfort. "What size would you like?"

"Whatever is closest to a medium." I replied. I was sure this place had bizarrely named sizes like Starbucks, but they had to be witch themed so I refused to say them.

She typed something into the cash register before turning to look at me again. "That'll be six fifty."

Six dollars for a medium coffee? What had this world come to? I missed the days before the economy rose to levels that were virtually impossible to pay for. Honestly, I'd have to get a different job soon that paid more. My funds from the centuries I've been alive we're going to dwindle to nothing very soon. I pulled out my wallet, grabbing some cash. The cashier pulled out a few bills and coins before handing them back to me.

"Your order will be out in a moment!" She said, smiling so widely it was obvious she was faking it.

I nodded in thanks to her before sitting down at one of the tables. It was cold, which only heightened my fear. The warlocks and witches had their eyes trained on me while I heard the barista work on my drink, the smell of coffee almost burning my nose. Why was I here? I shouldn't have entered. The Wiccan symbols seemed to flash at me, pictures of witches and warlocks were watching, their eyes scanning me up and down, judging my every which move. I fiddled my thumbs before deciding to pull out my phone.

As soon as my fingers made contact with it, it began to vibrate. I quickly pulled it out. Detective Adams. Great. I sighed as I answered it. "Detective."

"Sorry, Mr. Herwy." My eyes widened. That wasn't his voice, that was— "It's Evelyn, once if the other consultants? Detective Adams was busy but he kept wondering where you were and so he asked me to call you, so I used his phone. I do hope you don't mind."

My throat was tight as I listened to her speak. Of course it'd be the witch. "It's quite alright, Miss Pennington. I'm currently at a coffee shop. I needed something to get a little pep in my step."

There was a slight pause. "Which coffee shop?"

I frowned. She wouldn't, would she? "The Witch's Brew, why?"

Another pause. "Say, Mr. Herwy?"

"Yes, Miss Pennington?" She was, wasn't she?

She mumbled something, though I didn't reply, waiting for her to say it normally. I heard her sigh before she spoke again. "Can you maybe buy me something there? I'll pay you back. It's my favorite coffee shop and I know all the workers there so if you just say my name they'll know my usual and I know this is a big request but I was just wondering and if you can't then that's okay and—"

"Miss Pennington, it's quite alright, I'll get you something." Anything to get you to shut up. "What size do you normally get?"

"The High Coveness."

After I agreed to get her the drink I told her I'd be a bit longer, but she was alright with that. I went to the register and told the barista the order. Evelyn's cost me another eight dollars, so I was even more upset. However, I waited, trying to ignore the stares of the witches and warlocks around me.

One of the warlocks has a strange air to him. He was powerful. The green that fell off of him was almost equal to that of a werewolf. His eyes were a mix of green and blue, though I couldn't tell which one. His hair was dark, pulled back over his head, exposing his forehead. The suit he wore was clean, barely a wrinkle there. His tie was similarly monotone, and from there I noticed the stubble that laced his jaw. He was a good looking man, made me almost squirm in my seat. What would I have looked like if I was allowed to age as he did?

Beside him was a witch, her back turned towards me. The bright red locks were stark against the white dress she wore. It hugged her figure, barely leaving anything to the imagination. She possessed the perfect hourglass figure. Her fair skin did nothing to hide the many freckles that ran over every part of it. The dark spots reminded me of stars in the sky.

The last warlock was seemingly unnoticeable. His hair was a light brown and his skin tan. The clothing he wore was basic, ordinary, something a normal person wouldn't imagine a warlock wearing. He was thin, probably without an ounce of muscle on him. Brown orbs locked with mine, so I shifted my gaze to the last witch save for the barista.

She reminded me too much of that warlock, Noah, was it? They had similar facial structure, both rounded slightly in the cheeks but sharp at the jaw. Her almond eyes were framed by lashes that brushed her cheeks when she looked down. False, clearly. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun, not too tight but not so loose it was falling out. She wore a button up top with a blazer, along with a tight fitting back skirt. A business woman?

The barista suddenly rang a bell. "Your order, sir."

I carefully got out of my seat. The tension seemed to triple as I approached the bar. All of them eyed me warily. I grabbed both drinks. "Thank you, and may you have a wonderful day."

The barista thanked me, though I barely heard her as I turned on my heels and hurried out of there.

My body relaxed, I was away from those damned creatures.

As I approached the station, however, my mind began to race again. I was going straight back into the lion’s den, towards the world I wished to never see again.