Her eyes go cold, calculative, no longer focused on me.

Stalking over to the front door, she reaches into a bookshelf. Her hand finds what she’s looking for without diverting attention from the door. She pulls a book titled “Sparks Between Us” to reveal it’s just a cover for a small gun hidden there.

Suddenly I wonder how many other weapons she has hidden in plain sight. The assassin holds the gun behind her while she peeks through the door viewer. She groans in annoyance, all the tension in her body melting away in an instant. Tucking her gun into her back pocket and opening her door. A worried woman standing there.

“Daisy,” the woman calls her by her fake name. “I’m sorry to bother you this late but my son just got back, and that creepy guy is trying to steal his bike!” She rapidly says. Hollyhock makes a noise like a frustrated guliti, clenching her jaw. She holds up her pointer finger at me,

“One moment.” She turns to the woman. “I’ll take care of it,” she says with finality. With that, she goes down the hallway and out of sight. Leaving me standing in her apartment, with a stranger looking at me.

The woman gives an awkward wave and I return the gesture.

“Hello! Sorry was I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” I answer bluntly. Normally I’d have more grace but I’m slightly too annoyed to care. The woman picks up on this.

“I’ll just,” she quietly says while closing the door.

Left alone, I decide to change into something more fitting to sleep in.

Lying on her bed, wondering what I’m going to do next, Hollyhock comes back. She puts her gun and fake book back. Another groan escapes her mouth.

“Okay, now I’m really exhausted,” she says. “Damn falecido.”

“Come here then,” I call from her bedroom, without a hint of innuendo. Neither of us seem to be in the mood. She looks at her couch forlornly.

“Alright, since you’re desperate to sleep in my big, strong, arms,” she jokes. Kicking off her shoes, she doesn’t bother changing clothes.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself,” I counter as she climbs onto the bed. Her weight makes us sink further into the soft mattress. The assassin gives me a pillow and grabs one to hold to her chest. Another gun with a long barrel was hidden under it.

“Excuse me,” she picks it up and tosses it very expertly onto her dresser across the room.

“Isn’t it dangerous to throw a gun like that?” I ask.

“ ‘S not loaded,” she drowsily answers. “G’night.” Her eyes close and she curls up to fully embrace her pillow. I close my eyes to slowly wind down. A bit of panic settles in me at the intense quiet.

I thought this before, but Hollyhock sleeps like she’s dead. Her chest is barely moving, the rest of her is eerily still. Though I know rationally she didn’t just die in her sleep I still check her breath, holding my hand inches from her mouth. A whisper of a breath goes over my skin.

‘She’s alive.’ The worry in me settles. I’m about to put myself to sleep when something springs to mind.

Something Hollyhock said before she came to bed, it’s been bothering me all day. The man they call “falecido”, has an unusual magical presence about him. It’s as if he can manipulate magic, but there’s something off about him.

‘Besides his fixation of stealing bikes.’ If he has innate magic, what is he doing here? It’s unlikely that he wouldn’t know if he has magic. There’s more to this than I’m seeing.

I quickly look at Hollyhock, who’s still asleep. She’s recently been in contact with him. I mentally rifle through the spells I can use to help track him. Two will prove useful. I prepare the first, drawing out Hollyhocks aura. It’s still chaotic even as she sleeps. Jutting out to pierce everything around her.

I whisper the incantation I need for the first spell, showing the remnants of all magical energy she’s been in contact with. When the spell activates, a rainbow of colors appears before her aura. The spikes hold onto little pieces of other auras, even the magical energy of some of the objects I brought with me.

‘Fascinating. I wonder if she could-’

I’m not here to speculate what magic she’d be good at. I search through the myriad of colors, recognizing quite a bit of my own deep purple. Most of these are inert, save mine and one other. It’s a sickly green that makes my skin crawl, the same way it did when I first came across the falecido.

I pull the energy towards myself and prepare the second spell. It’s a simple tracking spell, pointing me to the source of whatever magical energy I put into it.

I quietly and quickly get up, slip on a pair of Hollyhocks shoes, and head outside to hunt my quarry.

In hindsight, I should’ve grabbed something to wear on top. Walking around this late in a silk camisole is drawing the attention of the few people still out. The spell only points straight in the direction I need to go, so I have to navigate around the numerous buildings of this city.

He seems to have to settle for the night, the tracker pointing in one solid direction for a while now.

After quite a bit of walking, I come across a small park. The sign declares this little slice of nature as Parsnip park.

Small palm trees, wild grass, and a few benches dot the what can barely be called the landscape.

I find the man I’m looking for in a pile of empty bottles that smell of alcohol, lying face down on a filthy blanket that I wouldn’t wipe my shoes on.

He doesn’t stir as I approach him.

I draw out his aura, the sickly green miasma raises only from his torso in thick vapors.

‘As I suspected, this isn’t his aura.’ I crouch and prepare a bioelectric reactive spell. It takes shape as a small pyramid in the palm of my right hand.

“Witch-Hazel and the falecido? What will people think?” The raspy voice of Hollyhock says from behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin in surprise.

“FIELDS OF ELYSIUM!” I curse aloud, clutching my chest. I didn’t notice her standing only three feet from me. I vaguely recall Tamara saying she was one of her best killers. I suppose she wouldn’t be an effective assassin if she couldn’t be stealthy. She tilts her head to the side.

“Fields of Elysium,” she tries the expletive out. A quick shrug indicates it’s not to her liking.

“What are you doing sneaking up on me?!”

The assassin puts a finger to her lips.

“Are you trying to wake up the whole neighborhood? I’m sure you don’t want everyone knowing about this secret date in the park,” she jokes. But she has a point.

“Right, I don’t want to wake him up.” Hollyhock scoffs.

“Him? He’s toasted,” she observes. The assassin kicks him in the side, he groans but otherwise doesn’t wake. “Earthquake wouldn’t wake him up. So whatever witchy things you have planned for him will go unnoticed.”

“Speaking of unnoticed, how did you find me?” I ask her.

“Would you believe me if I said I put a tracker on you?” She says with a straight face. I immediately examine my body to find it. “Nah, I’m fucking with you. I woke up the second you got out of bed. So I just followed you. You’re not very quiet,” she adds.

“I see, I’ll try to be quieter in the future.” She dismisses it with a wave of her hand.

“If you told me where you were going, I could’ve driven you. You wouldn’t have had to walk into that porno store.”

“That was embarrassing, but I didn’t want to bother you. I thought it would be best if you got some rest.”

“Hey, you moved into my place, I bought you new clothes and dinner. I’ll let you know if you’re bothering me,” she says with an oddly genuine smile. “So what’s so important that you had to disturb this,” she gestures to the man “fine, upstanding citizen, in the middle of the night?”

“Well,” I kneel back down and prepare my spell again. “I have a feeling that there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

“So he’s more than a bike stealing drunk?”

“We just have to find out, don’t we?” The spell reforms in my hand and I bring it to the crown of his skull. My energy instantly traces the outlines of his brain, showing where the electricity in his brain should be spiking.

“What’s this?” Hollyhock asks.

“I’m mapping the electrical output of his brain,” I answer. “It’s low, minuscule.”

“He’s sleeping, shouldn’t it be?” I shake my head.

“No, the sleeping brain has much more activity than this. He isn’t dreaming, his body isn’t doing anything it should.” I point out different spots. “All these should be lighting up, but they’re not. Unless he just slipped into a coma, and even then there would be more activity in the medulla here.”

“Maybe he died,” she says with a shrug. “‘Bout time.”

“No, his brain is still active. Just barely. And his aura isn’t natural.”

“So what’s it all mean?” The assassin asks, crouching next to me.

“This man is dead. He’s been dead for quite some time. And someone brought him back with magic,” I answer.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I’m being quite serious. I think this man is a revenant, a halfway gone soul brought back to fulfill a purpose of some kind.”

“Like stealing bikes from kids?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is. Whoever performed the spell would know.”

“Who did it?”

“Believe it or not but I don’t know every magician in the world.”

“Well, you should.”

“Do you know every assassin in the world?”

“Maybe I do, you don’t know how many there are. So what do we do about this guy?”

I look him over.

“There’s nothing to do. The magic that brought him back keeps him alive. It’s very potent too. That’s why he’s survived all these years, despite the residents of this city trying to kill him.”

“So there’s no way to kill him?”

“Not unless the magic runs out. Or maybe if his body suffers irreparable damage.”

“Like an explosion?”

“Yes, I suppose an explosion would do the trick.” Hollyhock raises an eyebrow like she just got an idea. “Don’t blow him up,” I scold.

“Fine. But why does he talk like that?”

“Let’s see.” I adjust my spell to send out ultrasonic pulses to get a more detailed look. “This is just a guess, but whoever did this poorly restored the left hemisphere of his brain, or it was badly damaged already. His constant bike stealing and alcoholism must be proclivities from when he was alive. Can’t imagine the purpose of having him do this.”

“So it’s a shitty job?”

“It’s either a pretty good rush job or a really shitty regular one,” I clarify. “Though one typically doesn’t rush a necromancy job. Then again, I’m a witch, a wizard would know more.”

“What does you being a girl have to do with it?” She asks. I stare at her, narrowing my eyes so that I might understand what exactly she’s saying. Then it hits me.

“You think that only women are witches and men are wizards.” Less of a question and more of an observation.

“Yeah,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Wizards and witches are just proficiencies. Jobs. There are female wizards, male witches, nonbinary sorcerers, and a whole spectrum of identities with various other jobs.”

“I get it, the magic world is a diverse one. So you don’t know a spell to undo this?”

“Why are you so hellbent on killing him?” I understand she doesn’t like him, but this seems beyond personal.

“Cuz before I joined the Bay Leaves, I found a bike that I was gonna sell, but then this motherfucker,” she kicks him again and he doesn’t wake. “Stole it from me! Could’ve got like fifty bucks for it too. Instead, I had to eat trash out of a fucking dumpster from a seafood place, and I fucking hate seafood!”

“Tragic as that is, I’m not going to kill him. Truth be told I don’t know many necromancy spells.”

“But you do know some?”

“Yes, but we can discuss that later. You need some sleep,” I say, realizing how tired I am. “We both do,” I add. She stands up with a groan.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Not like he’s going anywhere.” She smacks her neck. “Let’s go before these mosquitoes eat us.”

“What’s a “mosquitoes”,” I ask. She offers me a hand up and I accept, grabbing her calloused hand.

“Ironhenge sounds like a paradise, besides the whole baby-napping thing. A mosquito is a flying insect that sucks blood for food,” she explains.

“Oh, so like a vampire?” Hollyhock blanches at my comparison.

“Please tell me you’re messing with me,” she skittishly asks. The assassin looks around like one might attack her this very moment. I know I should tell her that most vampires prefer much cooler climates than Oleander City has. But she also seems to be on the precipice of a nervous breakdown.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t overload her with too much knowledge of the arcane.’

“I was joking,” I lie.

‘Hopefully, this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass...or the neck. Okay, I’m tired.’

“Deadass?”

“Deadass,” I reaffirm her. The relief on her face is instant.

“Thank God. I don’t need to deal with that shit.” I didn’t see it before, she’s holding a jacket that she swings around my shoulders.

“Let’s go,” the assassin leads me back to her apartment.

We walk for a bit before she asks,

“So now what are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s an undead guy walking around this city when there shouldn’t be. Somebody had to do it. It’s kind of a mystery, ain’t it?”

“It is rather strange, I hadn’t heard about anyone leaving Ironhenge to do...this. Maybe I should look into it.

“So nobody just pops out for a quick resurrecting the dead?”

“Absolutely not, we have very strict rules about using magic in the outside world,” I explain.

“Have you broken any of them?”

“Several,” I answer with a shrug. “But I don’t really give a shit.” Hollyhock loudly laughs.

“Oleander City is already corrupting you!” She slaps me on the shoulder and pulls me closer. “You’ll do just fine here!”

Chapter 6 End