"Witches versus Hunters" (closed)

[Alice2015]

"Witches versus Hunters"

(closed)​

She'd gone by a lot of names over her more than 900 years of life, but for the last 60 years, the woman who'd been born Alžběta Svoboda in the Moravia region of the Czech Republic in the year 1112 had been going by the name Chloe Devine. It wasn't a name that she'd picked for herself, of course. It was the name of the woman whose life -- and body -- she'd assumed after the Daughters of Brno Coven performed the Obnovení; the Obnoveni, which was Old Czech for Restoration, was what most people in the know -- or who were fans of the Steve Martin/Lily Tomlin movie All of Me -- would call transference reincarnation.

The original Chloe Devine had been precisely what Alžběta had been seeking in a new vessel for her duše, her soul. Chloe had been 26 years old at the time of the Obnovení in 1965. Alžběta liked that age, the late 20s; it was old enough to avoid being carded at most bars and taverns or to not be taken serious by older people who equated youth with ignorance; it was also an age that caught the eye of men from 18 to 80, and Alžběta liked the attention of men across that age range.

The original Chloe being that age meant that Alžběta didn't have to Pull the woman's age. Pull was the Witchy word for using one's Magical Powers to make oneself look younger on a permanent basis. It was a process that even a 900-year-old Witch found exhausting and time consuming. Employing all of her Innate Magical Power, her Spells, her Potions, and her Charms, it could take Alžběta as much as a week to Pull her new body's appearance back just one year. Once upon a time in a bygone era, she'd spent an entire year Pulling because she'd needed the Obnovení immediately and the only choice of vessel at the time had been a wrinkly old 55-year-old hag of a woman.

Despite the young woman's age being just what she wanted from a vessel, Alžběta had still spent some time -- 3 weeks -- sitting in a dark, damp, dingy basement with her Spells, Potions, Charms, and -- of course -- Innate Powers improving upon the woman's body. The original Chloe Devine had been a big heavy for Alžběta's taste, almost 170 pounds at a height of only 5'6"; her C-cup tits had suffered the natural ravages of Time and The Mother; she had a noticeable defect from a cleft lip surgery she'd undergone just days after her birth; and her left arm, hip, and leg bore the nasty scars from the Hunters attack through which she'd suffered but thankfully lived, thanks to the quick intervention of the Daughters of Brno Coven.

Alžběta couldn't help but find it ironic that the woman was saved by the Coven, only to later give up her conscious existence to one of their members because she herself had been a non-Magic Using Witch, a Dormant. The Coven preferred the proper, Old-World term for such unaware Witches like original Chloe: Spontánní čarodějnice, Old Czech for "Spontaneous Witch".

Alžběta could do without all the Old-World terminology, though. She'd avoided anything old for the whole of her life; she'd lived the modern life in each of her centuries of life, constantly moving forward even as many in the Worldwide Covens sometimes tried to stick with their traditions. That was why she'd ceased using the name Alžběta the moment she emerged from the Obnovení and then completed her makeover of her new body.

The new and improved Chloe Devine -- with her gravity-defying tits, ever-pert nipples, tight apple-shaped ass, flat and narrow waist, and flawless, exotic face with its now-perfect, pouty, kissable lips -- was walking the waterfront on a beautiful, spring day; she was scanning the families, couples, and solo picnickers scattered across the greenway's lawns on blankets or playing in the fountains or standing in lines at the multitude of food and drink carts.

She might have looked as though she was simply enjoying the beautiful day with its warm temperature, gentle breeze, and clear, blue sky. But Chloe was here with a purpose: Mayhem. She, like many of the modern Witches, used the word Mayhem, once again choosing to leave behind the Old Czech word, Zmatek. What word one used really wasn't important, of course; causing Mayhem was.

No one knew why a Witch's Innate Magical Power came from causing Mayhem, Madness, Death, and Destruction. It was just the way it was. Chloe didn't like having to do this, unlike some of the truly Wicked Witches. But it was something she did nonetheless because she liked the way she looked, she liked her virtual-immortality, she liked not having to hold a 9-5 job, she liked having just about anything or anyone she wanted for the taking. These were all things she got via the energy of her Magic, and the energy powering that Magic came from what she was about to do.

Chloe took a right up a path flanked by food, drink, and souvenir carts, plotting her actions as she went. She knew the danger of using her Magic, of course; Hunters had various ways of Sensing a Witch's presence -- their own Innate Powers, Spells, Potions, and Charms. Chloe had two things going for herself, though, that would protect her against all but the most powerful of Hunters: first, she was a 900-year-old Witch, not some 18-year-old rookie still in her figurative Witchy diapers, so her own Innate Powers had already told her that there were no Hunters within one or two miles of her current location; and second, she'd learned over the years how to combine her various sources of Magic to create the maximum amount of Mayhem with the least possibility of attracting attention.

(Part 2 next. Sorry it's so long; that's just how my RPs start.)

 

[Alice2015]

It was still no guarantee that she wouldn't get Sensed, of course, but by the time any really good Hunter got to the waterfront to look for her, she'd already be sitting down to lunch at Rinaldo's using the credit card she was about to lift during her show.

The first act would come in the form of a Potion. This one -- which Chloe ironically called Mayhem -- involved a small pouch of what looked like potpourri which she pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket. She tested for wind direction with a finger wetted by saliva, turned the appropriate direction, then shook the bag, sending a light powder wafting through the air. In less than fifteen seconds, men and women caught in the thin cloud of dried herbs, dehydrated lamb's blood, and ground Argiope aurantia eggs were hollering at each other, facing off, pushing and shoving, and finally throwing fists and swinging shopping bags.

Chloe's second act involved a common Seeing Spell, which on this occasion she caused the crowd to suddenly begin seeing a swarm of millions of mosquitos flying about them, attacking their skin, landing in their hair. Between the hands striking at other and now striking at themselves, the scene was simply hilarious as far as the inciting Witch was concerned.

Her third and final act started with Chloe reaching to her choker, slipping a finger between it and her neck, and spinning it around 180 degrees. The Charm that had previously been hidden by her long, blonde hair came into view -- or, at least, into her view. As she squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger, Chloe chanted, "Dovol mi vidět, ale nebuď viděn, nech mě slyšet, ale nebuď slyšen, dovol mi dotknout se, ale ne být dotčen."

If anyone standing near her had been fluent in Old Czech -- or, at least, in Old Witchy Czech, which was its own slightly different dialect -- they would have heard Chloe say, "Let me see but not be seen, let me hear but not be heard, let me touch but not be touched." And then -- if they hadn't already been engaged in the madness, nay the Mayhem, of the fight, flight, and fright of the Potion and Spell preceding the Charm's Chant -- such people would have seen Chloe Devine simply disappear from their view.

She took a moment to just stand there and see if anyone showed signs of being able to see her. Once she knew the Charm's Chant was doing it job, Chloe began filching wallets from pockets, credit cards from purses, dollar bills from vending cart cash boxes. She took her time, never rushing; she'd intentionally timed the Magic to dissipate in two minutes, which was time for her to collect her booty but not be Sensed by any Hunters who might be in town.

Her own Innate Power began warning her that her time was drawing near to a close, and she turned for the park's exit. She tossed her first stolen item, an oversized purse, over her shoulder -- it was now heavy with wallets, purses, cash, and even a few souvenirs and pieces of jewelry -- and simply walked away from the craziness which, very quickly began to die down; dozens of people simply stood there staring at one another without the foggiest idea of what had just happened to them or why, in some cases, they had torn clothes, bloodied lips, crying children, or yelping dogs.

Chloe stopped for the crossing light to change to walk, and then ... her heart skipped a beat as she herself Sensed a Hunter!

She spun back toward the park, simultaneously looking for signs of a male hurrying her way -- Hunters were always males, of course -- while also reaching again to her Charm and speaking a Protection Spell: "Detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana", which simply translated to Detect and Protect, repeated thrice.

It only took a few seconds for Chloe's 900 years of experience as a Witch to let her relax; she was in no immediate danger. She delved deeper into her Innate Power, searching the park and city around her, and slowly concluded several things about the Hunter:

• He was young, or at least youngish, which meant that his own Innate Power was far weaker than her own. That wasn't surprising.
• He had Magical Ability, which actually did surprise her. So few Hunters these days had Magical Ability: the first reason for that was that there simply weren't as many Hunters these days than there had been in centuries past; the second reason for that was that to inherit Magical Ability, a Hunter's mother had had to be a Dormant -- much like Chloe's new vessel -- and like Hunters themselves, there simply weren't as many Dormants as there had been in centuries past.
• The one thing about this unseen but approaching Hunter that did cause Chloe hesitation was his Lineage. Chloe could Sense that the Paternal Line through which he'd inherited his power had been a strong one. She could Sense that both his Father and Paternal Grandfather were both dead at his point, but she could also Sense that they'd passed on to him an inordinate amount of Magical Ability, more than the typical Hunter inherited from their male ancestors. Chloe was impressed with the man, even if it did cause mean that he could possibly be a danger to her.

She'd learned enough for now and turned again toward the street, finding the crossing light reading and speaking out Walk, walk, walk. She started out into the street--

Then suddenly, her heart leapt in her chest again and she spun back toward the park once more. Chloe stared into the park, scanning each male, searching for the Hunter, though, she didn't believe that he'd actually reached the park just yet. She wasn't just looking for a hunter, though. She was looking for a very specific Hunter ... one with whom she had a connection.

A loud honk came from the front end of the car to her right as it crept toward her slowly. Chloe looked to the driver as he stuck his head out the window and hollered angrily, "Get the fuck out of the road, you stupid Karen bitch!"

Chloe smiled wide, casually sweeping her hand through the air before her. Simultaneously, the car's front windshield spiderwebbed into thousands of little shards and all four of the vehicle's tires blew out, dropping the car six inches closer to the hardtop. Chloe then headed casually into the park to wait for the Hunter's arrival...

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

To the unknowing observer, the voice on the police radio might sound overly bored given the excitement the situation warranted.

“All units in the vicinity of Unit 54. Unit 54, disturbance in Founders Park. Multiple nine-one-one calls reporting what some are describing as a riot. At least two dozen people involved. No report of weapons. All responding units report on Tac-2.”

Excitement can be contagious, and dispatchers are trained to be the voice of calm, to counter the excited voices on telephones and radios that naturally happen when someone is on the scene dealing with the emergency.

“Update on disturbance in Founders Park, caller is now reporting up to 50 people involved. Still no report of weapons.”

Of course eye-witness reports weren’t always accurate.

--

Twenty year old Connor Jansky wasn’t exactly an eyewitness to the disturbance. He was, however, three blocks away from the park when he pulled to side of the road to allow the police car – lights and siren going - to pass. The windows on his old pickup truck were rolled down, enabling him to know a little more of what was going on than the average driver who was buttoned up tight inside his or her vehicle, music playing, air conditioner blowing cold air, while talking on a cell phone.

The other thing that enabled him to have a clearer picture of his surroundings was the fact he had trained from a very early age to be aware of his surroundings. He was a Hunter.

Another cop car passed him by, then another. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, but his instincts told him it there must be something happening in the park. Something happening, plus at least three cop cars – no wait, he could hear more sirens approaching from different directions, more than three cop cars – probably meant roads blocked. He took the next left onto Maple, then a right on Avenue M. To get to Old Sam’s Trading Post he would have to take Willow which ran adjacent to the park, but at least that route would avoid most of it. It wasn’t until he turned right onto Willow Street that he caught the scent.

It wasn’t a “scent” in traditional terms. Not a “smell” so much as a sensation. One that was sorta like a smell, but felt it all over.

A witch.

Zmatek.

Mayhem.

The park was clearly visible to him now. This was no riot, no one group advocating for one cause fighting another group opposed to that cause. This was simply – mayhem.

Connor was scanning the area as best he could as he drove by the park. A few people were still scurrying away – couples, and couples with children. None of them gave off anything that Connor could detect from a distance. There were a number of people hurrying toward the park. People who wanted to see what was happening and watch it unfold. No sense in concentrating on them. If this was caused by a witch (and what other explanation could there be?), she would be hurrying away from the scene.

Or would she?

Screech.....

Connor had to slam on his breaks. Fortunately, there was no one tailgating him, though the little old lady in the very old Cadillac was probably none too happy having to go around an old pickup truck pulling a 16 foot trailer which had ended up occupying part of the oncoming lane of traffic. Connor had been so lost in thought and scanning for witches that he almost ran into a car that was simply stopped at a crosswalk. That may not have been unusual in itself since there were a number of people gathered in the vicinity, some of whom were in the crosswalk (and almost got ran over by the little old lady in the very old Cadillac). The unusual part was the fact that this car had four flat tires.

Connor turned on his flashing hazard lights, as if he was performing a public service by parking behind the disabled vehicle, and got out to join the growing crowd of people who were almost as interested in the man’s flat tires as Connor was. His worn and faded jeans were covered in something like a combination of motor oil, grease, and dirt - much of it in the form of hand prints. His old sneakers (one of which was held together with 550 cord which itself was on the verge or breaking) were equally dirty and oily. Only the white muscle shirt looked pristine, except for the tell tale spots where his dirty fingers had been when he put it on for the trip to the city. Kneeling down to examine the right rear tire, there could be no doubt. To him, it practically reeked of magic. Of mayhem. He stood to look around again. Surely, if there was a witch … but then she could be long gone by now, or watching from a distance. He’d have to be careful, if she was watching, to give nothing away. He’s just another guy in the crowd, being nosey about what happened, and not using any kind of innate magic – and certainly no kind of spell – to identify her.

Just another face in the crowd who had emerged from a beat up old truck with the words “Jansky Small Engine Repair – Cripple Creek – 867-5308” painted on the door.

If the man was talking, telling anyone what happened, he would listen. If possible, he would as the man a few questions. He couldn’t ask about a woman without giving something away, but if the man was irate with the “Karen bitch” who had something to do with his tires and windshield, Connor would sure like a description.

 

[Alice2015]

As Chloe turned slowly, scanning the park, the street and riverwalk flanking it, and even the businesses across the street for the Hunter, she thought back to the Mayhem she'd caused to get to this moment. She'd used a combination of Innate Ability, Spell, Portion, and Charm -- all of her forms of Magic -- in smallish portions to prevent being Sensed by any Hunters who were in the vicinity.

And yet, he was still here and still hunting for her. Viola could Sense that he was looking for her as opposed to simply in the area. It had started as the latter, of course; she'd used her Magic, he'd Sensed it, she'd Sense him, yadda yadda. But as soon as he'd seen the effects she'd had on the asshole's car and had started looking for her, Chloe had known the Hunt was on.

Her first act, without even thinking it, had been to cast a Detect and Protect Spell. After that, she'd just joined the rest of the Mayhem's onlookers in scanning the crowd as if wanting to know what had happened. She knew what she was looking for: a young or youngish man who himself would be scanning, Sensing, for her.

Most likely, she's Sense his Aura. Oh, it wasn't like the auras of which the faux mystics spoke when they were stealing the hard-earned money of naive believers. It wasn't as if it glowed a color that designated good or evil, happy or sad, eager or reluctant; Chloe wasn't looking for a walking, talking Mood Ring. Nonetheless, she would Sense it when the Hunter was within her line of sight.

Finding him was made easier, of course, by the man's own Sensing search for Chloe. She found the general direction, which didn't surprise her when she realized it was back at the car she'd destroyed with the wave of a hand. She started casually that way, staying deep inside the milling crowd. Traffic had come to a full stop in both directions of Willow Avenue, with the jam being so bad that the incoming police cars and EMT vans were stuck blocks away.

Chloe scanned the vehicles, thinking that maybe the Hunter had come in one of them. There was the car she'd very nearly destroyed with the wave of a hand, of course, and right next to it a huge, early model Cadillac. An old woman sat at the wheel of the Cadi; Chloe didn't even have to consider her, of course.

There were dozens of other vehicles to view, but that all became moot when Chloe saw blazoned across the side of a 16-foot trailer the words, Jansky Small Engine Repair. She literally laughed aloud, then softly spoke aloud, "You have to be kidding."

She continued slowly the direction of the truck; concerned about being discovered by the trailer's owner, she again chanted the Detect and Protect Spell, "Detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana."

Almost instantaneously, Chloe knew the Hunter's exact position, even though she couldn't yet see him. She continued closer, and as the crowd between her and her target, she saw the Hunter rise from behind the far side of the destroyed car, just twenty feet from her!

It shocked Chloe to have not realized how close they were together, and she reached to the Charm around her next ready to cast another Spell to protect herself. But it turned out not to be immediately necessary as the Hunter's attention went to the ravings of the driver of the devastated car as he talked to a Foot Patrol Officer who was the first to respond.

"I don't know what happened!" the man was saying as he leaned back against his car, still a bit disoriented. "This woman was standing in the crosswalk ... I politely tapped my horn ... you know, 'cause I was concerned for her safety."

"I'm sure you were," the Officer responded, not for a moment believing that it had been anything other than impatient asinine behavior on the man's part. "Then what happened, sir?"

"The window just EXPLODED!" he said, waving his hands frantically. He brushed some glass shards from his shirt, continuing, "I don't know what the fuck it was. It was like one of those, what do they call'em, you know, the cops use them at drug houses and shit like that--"

"A Flashbang?" the Officer asked.

"Yeah, yeah!" the driver said with certainty. "A Flashbang! She must have thrown a flashbang at me!"

"And what about the tires?" the Officer asked. He gestured the man's attention to the tires on the driver's side, both flat of course.

The Driver looked even more shocked. "What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY TIRES?!?"

Chloe had barely heard anything the Driver and Officer were saying; her attention was fully on the Hunter. Earlier, shen she'd first Sensed him, she'd understood through her powerful Innate Magic that his Paternal Line -- his Father and his Father's Father -- were both dead. But now, seeing the name on the side of the work trailer she realized something both intrigued her ... and worried her.

She didn't know Connor Janky by his given name; she'd never the privilege of meeting the boy. But Chloe had known his father ... intimately. And if that wasn't interesting enough, she'd also known his Father's Father ... again, intimately, though some two decades or so apart.

Interesting...? Yes. The end of the story...? Far from it. Chloe hadn't simply made love to Connor Jansky's father and grandfather; she'd killed them both!

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Connor was confident he was a "good" Hunter. Everyone involved in his training (in recent years, anyway) had said he was "good". The reality, however, was that he lacked experience. How does one give a trainee real world experience in hunting witches? There was no "simulating" the darker magics - only practice detecting magic in general, the kind Hunters could create for the purpose of training other Hunters.

He'd been on hunts before, of a very limited nature. Tracking the movements of a witch. Examining the after-affects of a Zmatek, or discarded items the witch had used in a spell or to make a potion. He'd even helped dispose of a couple of bodies. But always - always - with more experienced Hunters taking the lead.

Now, he was on his own. He might need to act swiftly and violently with little to no time to think. An overpowering tension started at the lower base of his spine and began to work its way up. Fight or Flight? No, there was also a third possibility: Freeze. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Protection spell. Protection spell. He was running over it in his mind, but careful not to actually cast it. Casting it too soon would be the equivalent of throwing the switch on a floodlight on a moonless night saying "here I am" to any witches within ... within how close? A hundred yards? A mile? That would depend on the witch, wouldn't it? One who with a wave of her hand (what might appear to the man as "throwing" something) and she could both shatter a windshield AND flatten four tires in an instant. And the tire he got close to - it wasn't a spell. It wasn't the power she focused from a charm. Though it had a little of the scent of both, but not in themselves strong enough to ....

Wait - what? What did the man say? She was wearing what???

As an onlooker, he couldn't very well demand the man repeat himself, that was the police officer's job, but the officer was probably paying attention because he wasn't being distracted by the need to protect himself from a powerful witch ...

Oh shit.

Not witch. Witches. Two of them.

Redhead witch. Blonde witch.

Thank God he hadn't made eye contact with either of them, though as he looked around he saw about 90% of the men gathered around were no longer interested in tires and windshields, but in two very sexy attractive women standing nearby observing. One was watching the man, nervously fingering the choker she was wearing, while the other one was looking at the first with great affection.

No, not affection. Lust.

Definitely witches. With the little focus that scene provided him, Connor could better concentrate on using what innate skills he had to detect their evil. With them standing so close together, he couldn't discern which of them was the greater threat - the blonde or the one with red hair. The redhead looked older, with bigger boobs and wider hips, but that didn't really mean that much when it came to witches, did it?

The big battle which could play out if the witches attacked could change everything about him and his life. For now, all he could do was try to be inconspicuous and keep an eye on them. There was no way Connor could leave without abandoning his truck and trailer - the traffic was backed up in every direction. He would, however, very slowly make his way back to his truck, where he kept a shotgun behind the seat. The shotgun might have been standard stock, but the ammo it held was something special. Projectiles lined in soft lead - enough to hide the magical nature of the shot from prying witchy senses, but thin enough to fall away in flight. If anything went down, to the dozen cops on the scene he would look like a murderer if he succeeded. If he failed, he would look like a guy who dropped dead for no apparent reason.

On the passenger side of the truck, he slowly opened the door, pulled the back of the seat forward a few inches, then leaned against the vehicle as if he were nonchalantly waiting for the traffic jam to clear. He kept the two witches in his peripheral vision as he kept running the protection spell through his mind over and over so when the time came he could say it perfectly in the space of a heartbeat - and repeat it at least twice before he was drained. Then it would be a simple matter of outrunning the cops. With radios. And a couple of dogs. While leaving behind the vehicle with his name, town, and phone number painted on the doors.

Finally, the training was starting to make sense.

 

[Alice2015]

As she studied Connor from a distance of just 30 or 40 feet, she finally consciously tuned in to the conversation between the Driver of the car she'd destroyed and the foot patrol Police Officer who had been the first to respond; he'd since been joined by his partner, who was still carrying his coffee and hotdog from their interrupted lunch break. A pair of motorcycle cops had also arrived, weaving through the traffic jam that they were now directing toward an eventual clearance.

"So, this woman you think threw a flashbang at you," the Officer was asking with an obviously doubtful tone; he was barely able to prevent a smile from spreading his face. "Can you describe her...? White, Black, Brown...? Old, young?"

The Driver looked confused, his mind still trying to absorb the damage to his car. "Um, I dunno ... young, I guess. Yeah, young. And Jesus, what a fucking hot ass body. Fuck, you should have seen her." He held his hands out before his torso with his fingers curled. "She had tits right out of Sports Illustrated."

"The Swimsuit Edition?" the Officer asked.

The Driver gave him a WTF? look and answered sarcastically, "No, the fucking Soviet Union women's shotput team photos ... of course, the Swimsuit Ed--"

He suddenly went silent, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. He pointed an extended finger toward the park -- directly at Chloe! -- saying, "There she is! That's her! That's the bitch who blew up my car!"

Chloe suddenly realized that she'd been so interested in the Hunter that she'd concentrated her Conceal Spell solely on him and let it slip on everyone else, including the Driver. As the Officer turned his eyes her way, Chloe grasped the Charm around her neck again, looked about herself, found a woman standing nearby, and chanted, "Odraz!"

When he finally found the blonde woman -- Chloe -- who the Driver was indicating, the Reflection Spell Chloe had casted caused the Officer to instead see the redheaded woman where Chloe was standing and Chloe where the Redheaded woman was. The cop asked, "The redhead?"

"No, no!" the Driver said, jabbing his finger in the air almost violently. "The blonde! Right there, the blonde!"

"Okay, okay," the Officer said, thinking to himself The Redhead's tits are EASILY 4 cup sizes larger, so how do you define 'a fucking hot ass body'? He told the Driver, "Settle down. I'll go talk to her."

He waved one of the motorcycle cops over to babysit the driver, then headed into the park toward the wrong woman. Meanwhile, no longer concerned with either of those two men, Chloe turned her attention back to the Hunter; he'd moved, returning to his truck as inconspicuously as he could. He, too, had seen the Blonde and Redhead, but unlike the Cop on whom Chloe had casted the Reflection spell, Connor saw the two women for who they were.

But he couldn't tell which one of them was the actual Witch, thanks to Chloe's original spell. She ambled away from the Redhead for a closer view of the Hunter, finding him opening his truck's door and pushing the seat forward. It didn't take a 1,500-year-old Witch to understand what Connor was doing; Chloe's 900 years of experience was more than enough to know that he was going for a weapon.

She continued studying him as the distance between her and the actual Redhead increased; the Officer had reached the woman and was beginning to question her, even as the driver was hollering to him, "Not her! The blonde! The blonde! Over there! Jesus fuckin' Christ, are you blind?"

The Driver was beginning to annoy Chloe and, at the same time, was a potential problem; the cop with him now was beginning to look for the supposed-Blonde the man was pointing to. She waved her hand through the air, using her Innate Power without the need to cast a Spell. Suddenly, in every direction, car horn alarms were blaring while the accompanying signal lights flashed crazily.

The distraction caused the second cop -- as well as the other two dozen who'd finally reached the park and traffic jam -- to forget all about Chloe. But when she looked back to Connor, she found the Hunter looking directly at her. Her heart skipped a beat, not because she really feared him -- he was young and inexperienced, she'd already Sensed -- but because she couldn't be certain that he didn't ID her as the Witch for whom he was searching.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Connor Jansky the well-trained Witch Hunter was beyond pissed with himself. Like every spectator present, he’d been distracted by the sudden racket of every car alarm going off simultaneously. Distracted for only a second, but if the witch had been determined to strike, he would probably be a dead man.

For whatever reason, whether it was the witch’s inexperience, or the grace of God, or maybe even because the witch had other plans – Connor was still alive, and determined to never make that mistake again.

As he saw it, there were only two ways out of this “Mexican Standoff”.

Ideally, he could get in his truck and drive away. That would depend on the cops clearing the traffic jam (which would happen eventually) and the witches not attacking him. Even if he did get away, they had surely seen his name and the location of his business painted on both his truck and the trailer. That would mean clearing out quickly, and getting his mother to safety as well. That would involve a lot of phone calls in a short period of time – IF his phone even worked. He couldn’t be distracted by a phone now, however. 100 per cent focus on the witches, who by now were getting further and further apart – no doubt to attack him from two directions at once.

Which led to the other one of two ways this could end: Combat. He wasn’t going to initiate it unless he was absolutely sure of their intentions, but he was definitely ready if they started something. Ready, as long as they didn’t trick him again – like with the car alarms.

He ran through a mental checklist. If the blonde one gets within 20 feet, protection spell and shotgun, then don’t even waste time looking to see what effect it had. She was obviously the expendable decoy. As soon as you shoot, do another protection spell and go for the redhead. It would be ABC time: Always be charging. Remember to count the rounds from the shotgun. Five blasts, then drop it and go for the knife.

When your sword meets that of your enemy, you can never waver, but must instead attack with the complete resolution of your whole body

Perceive that which cannot be seen with the eye

If you do not control the enemy, the enemy will control you

When you decide to attack, keep calm and dash in quickly, forestalling the enemy...attack with a feeling of constantly crushing the enemy, from first to last.

(she is so… so … pretty)

Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love

(I never realized how.. pretty… and sexy …)

In single combat you must not fix the eyes on the details. As I said before, if you fix your eyes on details and neglect important things, your spirit will become bewildered, and victory will escape you.

(I wonder … what it would be like … not with a witch, of course, but with a woman, like her)

Musashi and Takuan both believed that the great mistake was being slowed or rendered immobile by what one sees, hears, feels, or thinks. For them, even an instant’s preoccupation could be fatal. Both body and mind must be free to flow and to respond to whatever the situation demands

(Is … is this … wh..what my father … felt?)

Do not let the enemy see your spirit

The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight, and the only reason a warrior fights is to win

(Enough of that. I’m ready for you, bitch – you and your friend.)

But was he?

--
--

(OOC - To give a bit of credit where credit is due, the words in purple are mostly from the writings of a (17th Century?) Samurai known as Miomoto Musashi in The Book of Five Rings, with the exception of one which is from a commentary on the book. The Book of Five Rings is pretty much standard training for every Witch Hunter.)

 

[Alice2015]

Things were getting out of control. Chloe had used her Magic three times in less than 15 minutes. No, four times: Mayhem, Sensing spell, Detect/Protect, and Reflection. And now the Hunter was staring right at her, certainly wondering if or already convinced that she was in fact the Witch for whom he was seeking ... hunting.

She knew she should evacuate the area immediately. It had been stupid to stay around when she first Sensed Connor Jansky. Chloe hadn't been in control of the situation as she would have been if she'd come looking for a Hunter. She knew who he was now: she knew what he looked like, knew his name, and even knew his paternal heritage. She could leave now and -- when the time was more appropriate -- come hunting for him.

But that last part -- his paternal heritage -- was just what was keeping her from just running off. Jansky ... Hunter Jansky! How the hell do they keep popping up in my life. I thought I was done with them.

By done with them, Chloe meant that she thought she'd destroyed that particular Paternal Line. She'd killed Connor's grandfather decades ago ... three, four, five...? It was hard to remember. She had, of course, been alive over 900 years, and her duše, her soul, had been transferred via the Obnovení -- the Restoration -- to new Vessels so many times ... seven ... eight?

When she'd learned that Connor's grandfather had had a son of whom Chloe wasn't aware and that that son had Magical Abilities, she'd gone hunting for him. It had been the first time in over 200 years that she'd independently hunted a specific Hunter. It wasn't something the Coven encouraged; solo hunting was dangerous, and when it was personal -- as it had been with the Jansky Hunters -- Witches sometimes put themselves in unnecessary danger.

It had been that way with Connor's father. Chloe had very nearly gotten herself killed hunting him. It had been worth it, though, knowing that that Paternal Line had come to an end. Known! she told herself now. Known! How did you get that so wrong?

She had to bring this to a close; the situation was not only not ideal but was flat out fucking dangerous. Chloe considered simply walking away. But Connor had looked directly at her, had identified her as the most likely subject to be the Witch after whom he was searching. She could cast another Spell to distract him or even hide her identity from him. But she thought maybe it would be better to simply cause some more mayhem, this time directed right at the Hunter.

Chloe looked about herself and found the ingredients -- both tangible and not -- to her idea. A couple of steps to her was a flower cart. She looked to it and chanted, "Na kousky! Sláva vám! Výbuch!" The words of the three separate spells translated to To Pieces ... Fame be to you ... and Blast!

The spells worked quickly as Chloe clutched her choker pendant with the fingers of one hand while the other hand first waved past the flower cart, then pointed an extended finger directly at Connor: the petals and leaves of the hundreds of flowers suddenly fell from their stems; they exploded into a cloud of flora; then -- catching the wind that luckily had been blowing the needed direction -- they wafted over a crowd of people still standing around watching the results of the previous Mayhem.

As the petals made contact, those touched looked directly at Connor, and as a group rushed toward him, calling out any number of famous people who they individually idolized. In just seconds, the Hunter was being mobbed by men, women, and children alike, all of them wanting autographs, selfies, kisses, or handshakes.

Amidst all this new Mayhem, a pleased and widely smiling Chloe simply walked away ... already planning on how she was going to pay to Jansky Small Engine Repair in Cripple Creek.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Muscles tightened in his back and chest as the blonde one began to move. He leaned a little closer to the door of his truck, a little closer to the shotgun, when it registered: She wasn't moving toward him, or away. She was moving laterally. Getting further from her partner, trying to "surround" him. Then another thought, an even more horrible one: What if there are more than two of them?

One could already be behind him, sneaking up on him. He dare not take his eyes off the blonde one, not while the redhead remained in his peripheral vision, but ... if there was one behind him too ... he had to look. Just a quick look. For all he knew, Number Three could already be within arm's reach.

He glanced around behind him - quickly. So many people. So many women. Many young, most of them pretty, none of them paying any attention to him. But then a witch wouldn't be making eye contact, would she? She would have averted her eyes as soon as he started to turn his head. Only the inexperienced one, the blonde, would make that mistake.

When his eyes turned back toward the blonde and her companion, he saw her lips moving - and she was obviously not talking to anyone near her. Shit! She's casting ...
Hand to the choker. Hand pointing at him. Reach for the shotgun - no wait - protection spell first ...
"Nosotros .... "
BANG!
Exploding flowers???
Distracted from the spell, knowing it was too late anyway, and relying on the charms in his possession - the cross necklace and the rabbit's foot key chain in his ... no, it is still in the ignition of the truck dammit ...
Too late! Grab the shotgun!!!

But even before his hand made contact with the firearm with the "magic bullets" he was attacked from behind! Not one set of hands, but two. Then three. Then more, too many to count! A whole Coven??? It was all happening too quickly. By instinct, no doubt, he pulled his knife as he spun around, slashing at arms and thrusting at ... Blood from an artery was spurting into his face, a woman was screaming, and he had just stabbed a man in the chest, quickly pulling his knife out and slashing at the throat of another wit...

A man?????

Not a witch.

All Connor could do was drop the knife and run. Run in the opposite direction of the redhead witch. He didn't even bother looking for the blonde - knowing where she was wouldn't help him anyway. All he could do was run in the opposite direction from the park, the cops, and all the mayhem. Run as fast as he can, as far as he can. Thinking would do him no good now, he had to rely on instinct.

--

Connor had no idea how far he had run. Or for how long. He didn't recognize the neighborhood, but then again he didn't get a very good look from inside a culvert. Thank God it hadn't rained recently, but then weren't there always puddles of water in culverts? There certainly were in this one.

Slow down your breathing. Deeper and slower. Slower and deeper. Listen for sirens.

His phone -- was in the console of his truck. Beside his wallet.

Must find a phone. Must phone Magellan. Must tell him what happened. Must get mother to safety.

Thankfully, his mentor, Magellan, had made him memorize telephone numbers. In case he didn't have the use of his cell phone. For times like this?

No, no one could have foreseen a time like this.
The neighborhood was old, dilapidated, and unfamiliar to him - not exactly the sort of place he would expect someone to loan him a phone. Keeping to the shadows he finally came to a convenience store. He knew going in would be risky - but staying out would be risky for others. For Magellan, and for his mother, and quite possibly for a whole lot of other people. A whole lot of Hunters.

"No, I .. I don't have any money. Like I said, I was robbed. Please, it's an emergency."

The clerk probably had a description of the man the cops were looking for. Connor had forgotten his face was partially covered in someone else's blood - or maybe the perspiration had washed it all off, and down to his shirt.

"No, not a 911 kind of emergency, I need to call somebody to warn them that some bad people are coming after them. Please."

"Look. I know what this looks like. Fine, let me make this call, then I'll sit down right over there and wait while you call the cops. Okay?"

--

The phone was ringing, but Magellan wasn't answering.

You have reached .....

"shit shit shit, hurry up"

If you wish to leave a callback number ...

"hurry up, dammit"

Leave your message after the beep ...

"Magellan, everything just went to hell. I lost everything, truck, weapons, my ID and phone, and the police are after me. And they're going to come after you. A .. a blonde, and a redhead with big tits. Destroy everything you can and get mom and get out. Warn - everybody - hurry!"

Then he dropped the phone and dashed out the door, having had no intention of waiting for the cops to show up.

 

[Alice2015]

Waterfront Park

Chloe was making a successful withdraw from the park after her combination Spells upon the crowd that was now mauling the Hunter. She heard the cries and screams, particularly from women, who thought that the man they were encircling was their favorite movie, television, or music star. She knew that he'd be so tied up with the mob that she'd be able to casually walk away and pick her own time and place to continue their interaction.

Then she heard a scream that wasn't one of joyous delight but of pain and fear. Looking back, Chloe saw the Mayhem she'd begun turning into a madness she hadn't anticipated. Even while people were flocking toward Connor, others were fighting to get away from him. Then, Chloe saw a spray of blood arc through the air; she knew blood, of course, as she'd spilled enough of it over the last nine centuries.

Of course, bloodletting wasn't normally the way Chloe ended someone's life, particularly a Hunter. There were so many other more interesting ways to cause a death. Again, this was particularly so for a Hunter. Connor's grandfather had died in what Chloe had thought was an interesting way. Connor's father had particularly died in an interesting way. She wondered whether or not Connor was aware of either of these deaths. He didn't; the details had been kept from him, not that Chloe knew that.

She watched the writhing of the crowd; those still affected by the Spells fought to get close to Connor, while simultaneously those who were inadvertently being attacked by him were fighting to get away. Chloe watch for a long moment, wondering whether she should do something to stop it, something to increase the madness, or nothing at all.

Before she could make a decision, though, Chloe caught sight of the Hunter emerging from the crowd, running hard into the park. He was covered in blood, confusing Chloe; her Spells shouldn't have caused that. He's thought he was under attack, she realized. Fuck! Well, that was unexpected.

Again, Chloe found herself wondering what she should do next. Connor was moving fast, and it was only seconds later that he disappeared into the park. Police were just now responding to the attacks, and by the time they would understand what happened, the Hunter would be long gone. Chloe was happy for that; she didn't want him caught as that would deprive her of the fun she was only still designing in her head.

So, what now, Alžběta? she asked herself, using the name given to her at birth in the Year 1112. What do you suppose you do next?

The answer to that hadn't changed just because Connor had misunderstood what was happening to him and had gotten crazy with a knife. Chloe looked back to the trailer still stopped in the middle of Willow Avenue: “Jansky Small Engine Repair – Cripple Creek – 867-5308. She smirked, turned for the hotel in which she'd stayed last night, and headed that way. As she strolled, she opened the big bag still over her shoulder and began picking through her loot from the Mayhem that had started today's fun.

She smiled; it had been a good haul. Oh, she didn't really need all the jewelry or other non-currency valuables, and honestly, she might not even keep them all, tossing most but the best gold and biggest jewels right into a trash can. But the cash itself was handy to have. Even a Witch had bills to pay, and it wasn't as if she punched a clock Monday to Friday mornings, was it?

(OOC: I'm going to write a second post, but I needed to post this and do something else for a moment.)

 

[Alice2015]

The small rural town of Cripple Creek
About Sundown

Chloe stepped out of the Jaguar she'd borrowed for the afternoon drive and strolled up into little Sunrise Cafe, finding herself the instant center of attention as soon as she pushed through the squealing old door. Between those at the counter and those in booths, she counted 19 people in all. Of them, all 19 were giving her a once-over ogle; the men spent more time checking her out, of course, but there were a couple of women whose gazes remained on her a bit, too.

"Pick a seat, Miss," the waitress called from behind the counter with an I've been working too long to bother finding you a place to sit your tight little ass down tone. She added as she poured an ogling old man coffee, "I'll be right with you."

"Thank you," Chloe said with a friendly smile, telling her, "I just have a cup of hot tea ... when you have the time ... no rush."

Scanning the occupants of the rural cafe one more time and employing only her Innate Magic -- knowing that it couldn't be Sensed -- Chloe verified to her satisfaction that she was safe here from any Hunters. She took a seat in a booth by the window and looked across the street to the old, ramshackle building with a sign emblazoned under the roof's peak:

Jansky Small Engine Repair
Open when the light's on
or
Call 867-5308​

Chloe looked to the hooded lamp over top of the sign and found it very bright indeed. She wondered whether it would be illuminated if the Jansky Hunter had beaten her here. Doubt it, she told herself, thinking the same thing that Connor was thinking right now: He's going to want to get the hell out of Dodge 'til the coast is clear.

The Mayhem Chloe had caused in the park, followed by the exploding car incident and the subsequent Spells had to have had a psychological effect on the Hunter. She knew he was young; she knew he was inexperienced; but at the same time, she knew that deep inside him, he had the potential to become a powerful Hunter. He's a Jansky, she reminded herself as the waitress arrived with a small pot of hot water, a tinier container of cream, and a bowl filled with tea bags, real and faux sugars, and a spoon.

"I'm having issues with my car," Chloe told the waitress, gesturing to the Jag. Gesturing a second time toward the shop, she asked, "Are they good over there across the street?"

The woman looked between Chloe, the car, the old building with the sagging roof, and Chloe once again. She snorted in derision, saying, "I wouldn't ... and I own a Pinto!"

A pair of guys sitting up at the nearby counter -- whose eyes had not left Chloe's body since she'd entered the cafe -- each released a belly laugh at the waitress's warning. When Chloe looked to them, one said, "You ever heard the saying 'The lights on but nobody's home' when it comes to..." The man tapped a fingertip to his temple. He finished, "That's the Jansky's."

There was more laughter between the men, with the waitress joining in, too. Chloe smiled to the men as if having enjoyed their little joke about the Family of Hunters, then very casually waved her hand before her; in the next few seconds, both of the assholes cried out in pain and surprise as their coffee mugs mysteriously tipped over, spilling their contents into the patrons' laps.

"I thought a saw a young man working there once," she asked the waitress as she was delivering a check to a couple standing to leave. When the waitress just shrugged her shoulders, Chloe asked, "I don't suppose you know his name."

"Connor," the woman said. Nodding her head toward the window and, thus, the shop, she clarified, "Jansky, like the sign."

"Does he work for his father?" Chloe went on. She was ready to use some of her Magic to get answers if she needed.

But the waitress had no qualms about speaking about the cafe's neighbors, saying, "Naw, Connor's old man died years ago ... what, maybe a dozen...? More?"

Another Old Timer nodded his head, saying, "Fifteen at least. Magellan opened the shop six or seven years ago, and I heard tell he'd had the kid -- Connor -- that long already, so ... fifteen is close. Maybe less."

Chloe asked, "Magellan?"

That resulted in another round of laughter. Yet another Old Timer chimed in with a somewhat dry, expository tone, "Magellan, Ferdinand, circa 1480 to 1521. Portuguese explorer who led the first successful circumnavigation of the globe, 1519 to 1522--"

"Jesus Christ, Roland!" one of the others interrupted. "No one cares." The interrupter looked to Chloe and explained, "We call him that because if you believe all of his stories, he's been around the world, maybe even a couple of times."

"He died," Roland cut back in with a bit meeker tone. When the others -- and Chloe, too -- looked his way, he clarified, "Ferdinand. He died. In the Philippines. Never made it all the way round himself."

"Thank you, Roland," Chloe said, her appreciation garnering a tip of Roland's greasy old ball cap. She looked back to the shop, thought a moment, then murmured, "So ... Connor's got a Mentor."

Chloe had a very good idea of exactly what this Magellan was: the young Hunter's substitute Magic trainer, a Mentor. This made things a little more complicated ... maybe. Oh, most Mentors were old hacks from the Hunter ranks, men who couldn't handle the hunt anymore due to any of a number of reasons. Some had taken so much unrepairable physical, psychological, or emotional damage over their years of hunting that they just couldn't handle it anymore. Some were simply old and/or burned out and left the hunting to the next generations.

Of course, Chloe could be absolutely wrong, too. She'd run into a handful of Mentors over her 900 years who'd still been very skilled and in great physical and mental shape; these Mentors turned to teaching because they knew that they had so much to offer the next generations and didn't want their talents to go to waste should they ever finally meet their match.

The chances that this Magellan was one of those Mentors was low, Chloe imagined ... or hoped, at least. The only way she was going to find out, of course, was to walk across the street and find out. She finished her tea, dropped a twenty on the table, thanked the waitress, playfully told the two men still dabbing their groins with towels to be more careful and more polite, then headed out and across the road; she could feel the eyes on her ass as she walked and -- just for the fun of it -- caused all of the window shades on this side of the building to fall fully down to block the view.

(Sorry, I just couldn't stop writing. Part two is next.)

 

[Alice2015]

(Part two)

That should get his attention, Chloe thought to herself about her use of Magic so close to the repair shop. By the time she'd crossed the old country road and was halfway across the gravel lot to the entrance, she felt a protection spell go up around the structure. She smiled, murmuring, "Nice try."

Chloe walked right through the invisible barrier with barely more than a tingle on her skin, but when she reached for the door, she jerked her hand back at the small electricity-like jolt she got from the handle. She hesitated, contemplating her options and deciding to be nice about it all. Using her mind only, she passed the message, If you let me in, I promise not to harm you ... not for now, anyway. Keep me out, though, and ... well ... that'll make me angry.

Almost half a minute passed, and no change to the Protection Spell seemed imminent. Chloe took a step back and looked around as she considered her options; she didn't really want to turn this into an epic battle between Hunter and Witch, between Good and Evil -- she, of course, was usually considered to be the evil one.

Then, after seeing some evidence of not just commercial business but of possible residential use of the building, too, Chloe added, this time speaking aloud rather than simply thinking the message, "I'm assuming that this is your domicile, too. Am I right? You know what that means."

If this was in fact the Mentor's home, Chloe was prevented from using her Magic within it for any other reason than protecting herself. No one knew exactly how that restriction had come to be, but then, no one knew exactly how Magic, Witches, Hunters, and the fight between them had come to be either, did they?

Suddenly, Chloe felt the second, stronger Protection Spell drop. She tested the door again, found it safe, turned it, and pushed the door slowly open. There was no one in sight, but she knew that the Mentor was there. She entered, closed the door behind her, and walked in slowly as she looked around herself. It looked like any other repair shop she'd ever seen; it even had the obligatory bikini girl calendar on one wall and a dusty, greasy old spring water dispenser in the corner.

"We're going to be polite about this, yes, Rádce?" Chloe asked, using the Czech word for Mentor. She added, "Civil?"

The man didn't answer verbally, but -- even though she could Sense fear all about the space -- Chloe also Sensed that the man was going to hold up the little truce between them for the moment. She headed slowly through a door to find not just the Mentor but a woman as well; Chloe was immediately alarmed that she hadn't Sensed the second body, particularly since it was a female.

The Mentor looked to be in his 70s perhaps, but Chloe knew that looks weren't everything in this business; she herself was, after all, 913 years old this year. Hunters sometimes looked much younger if they were strong, physically or magically or both; they often looked much older than they were if they'd had a tough career, too.

The woman -- who Chloe would realize later never made eye contact with her -- looked to be even older than did the Mentor. Chloe Sensed that she was actually far younger than she seemed, though. There was Magic at work here, but to her dismay, Chloe couldn't read what Spells, Charms, Potions, or Innate abilities might be responsible for her blindness.

"I'm looking for Connor Jansky," Chloe finally said, trying to begin a conversation. When neither of the people responded, she added, "I assume you are his Rádce, yes?"

Again, neither of the occupants of the building spoke. Chloe looked around herself, trying to get a feel for whether or not the young Hunter's training was taking place here. She saw no signs -- visually or through Sensing -- of Portion making of Spell Casting. That didn't necessarily mean anything, of course; the pair could be using another location or just another room that was protected by various sources of Magic.

"Connor attempted to pursue me this morning," Chloe said after another long pause, clarifying, "Hunt me."

"That's what we do," the Mentor said, finally breaking his silence.

Chloe smiled a bit, appreciative of the man's explanation. She said with a polite voice, "But ... you know what that means ... yes? I was just out minding my own business ... and Connor stuck his nose in it. I wasn't causing any one any harm--"

"You were causing Mayhem!" the Mentor snapped back.

Chloe stared at him a long moment, then smiled and shrugged. "Well ... it's like you said ... it's what we do."

Then, while all this tension was already in the air, the telephone on the wall to her right rang loudly. In an instant, there was a sudden increase in Magic in the room, from both the Mentor and the Witch. Each of them were as tight as the spring of a Jack-in-the-box, ready to attack or defend in a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second.

As the phone continued to ring, Chloe reminded the man, "We were going to be civil about this ... remember?"

The phone stopped ringing, and the old fashioned, tape-equipped message machine clicked on: "If you wish to leave a callback number, leave your message after the beep..."

No sooner did the machine beep then a young male voice began with panic and haste, "Magellan, everything just went to hell. I lost everything, truck, weapons, my ID and phone, and the police are after me..."

Chloe raised her hands in a surrender gesture and said playfully, "Not my fault. I didn't do that--"

Connor was still speaking, "And they're going to come after you. A ... a blonde, and a redhead with big tits..."

Chloe couldn't help but giggle, again defending herself, "Not me ... or my tits."

"Destroy everything you can and get mom and get out..."

At the word mom, Chloe immediately looked to the woman who was more hidden behind the man than exposed. Could that be the mother? Could she be a Spontánní čarodějnice ... a Dormant? Chloe didn't believe that for a moment. The woman hiding behind the Mentor radiated no Aura signaling that she now had nor ever had any Magical powers, either active or dormant. If she was a Spontaneous Witch, Chloe would be able to tell.

This isn't 'mom', she told herself. One day, if she ever did learn the truth of this woman, Chloe would wish that she'd killed her right here, right now, ignoring the whole Sanctuary bullshit that she'd promised at the front door.

Connor continued his message, "Warn - everybody - hurry!" And then, there was a clatter, a long moment of nothing, and the beep indicating that the recording time had reached its end.

"That must be Connor," Chloe said with a polite smile and tone. "Sounds like a good kid." When the Mentor said nothing in response, Chloe said, "It's gonna be a shame to kill him ... like I did his father..."

That got a response from the Mentor; the increased Magical energy in the room rose yet again, even though the man didn't take any action. Chloe was actually hoping that the man would attack, so that she herself could fry his ass and his little frightened doggy, too. But all she felt were Protection Spells stacking one atop another.

After a moment, Chloe visibly relaxed, then said in a nonchalant voice, "Okay, well ... it's been nice talking to you. I'll just be going--"

And then, in a flash, she waved her hand before her and chanted quickly, "ZAPOMENOUT!"

Chloe waited a moment for a reaction from the pair, then -- to her relief, as the Forget Spell kicked in -- she felt the Mentor's Magical energy fade away to nothingness. She smiled to the Mentor and the woman -- who still would not meet Chloe's gaze -- and said, "Well, thank you for fixing my engine. Just send me the bill, and I'll get a check out to you."

Turning, she left, crossed the road, got in her car -- noting that the occupants of the cafe were still fucking around with the drapes that wouldn't go back up -- and then left. The Mentor wouldn't remember anything of what had happened here. Chloe didn't know whether or not Connor would Sense her presence there or not; she sort of hoped he would. But she'd check on him in a couple of days and decide what her next actions were going to be.

She knew that the Coven would want her to call them in to kill both Connor and the Mentor. But Chloe had found the kid kinda cute, and despite her history with the family, she thought that maybe it might be worth keeping him around for a little fun ... before she fried his ass.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Pity poor Unit 54, the police officer who would have to write the preliminary report on the “disturbance”. All the other officers were there to help establish and maintain order, identify those involved, and interview everyone who either participated or saw what happened, but there was that one guy who had to put it all together who then had to compile it in a way that would satisfy the Investigator who took over the case, and even more demanding would be the Police Chief (who no doubt wanted all the answers yesterday so he could look like he knew what he was talking about in the press conference.)

“Do you have any identification on you?”

“Sure, right he… hey! My wallet! It’s gone!”

“No offense Ma’am, but you’re 78 years old. What prompted you to attack this man?”

“He looked like Brad Pitt. So much like him we all thought it was him.”

“Who are you talking about woman? I didn’t see a guy with her. Honest officer, I swear it was Scarlett Johansson!”

The Fire Department had managed to worm its way through the traffic and the crowd to set up a landing zone for helicopters to transport the most critical patients to local hospitals. The rest would have to wait for the traffic to clear.

“Here’s the wallet and cell phone I found in the console. There was a pistol in the glove box and a shotgun behind the seat, so I locked it up. Here’s the key.”

“Great, can you hang on to that for me, and call a wrecker. Be sure to tell them there’s a trailer attached.”

“Can you folks move back please. Get away from that knife, it’s evidence and we need to get some photos first.”

“Why would Ryan Gosling want to stab all those people?”

A guy who couldn’t remember why the fight started attacked the man he’d been fighting with again when he realized the other guy stole his wallet.

“Look, I know it was Elvis. Alright. I mean, sure he’s aged a lot, but I know Elvis Presley when I see him. You think I’m a crazy conspiracy theorist, don’t you? No, I’m an Elvis impersonator myself – I’ve studied the man, I know every feature, every quirk. Ask me how many nose hairs he had in that photo with Nixon at the White House.”

“Has anyone from the Sheriff’s Department checked out that place in Cripple Creek yet?”

--

Connor was deep into the woods, but still had a long way to go before getting home. It might not be a good idea, but it was the only idea he had. To see if his mother and Magellan were …

He didn’t want to think about that – but he had to know. That would determine his next course of action. What were the choices? He didn’t know.

Eventually he came to what he was pretty sure was the creek which had given its name to the town he lived in. Used to live in. Cripple Creek wound too much through these woods – following it would take ten times as long to get home as if he walked a straight line. However, he did enter the creek, determined to walk in the water as long as he could stand the cold. That would leave no tracks for the cops to follow, and would make the dogs’ job more difficult. He didn’t have a spell he’d practiced to throw off the dogs, so something generic would have to do. It was a risk – using magic when there were probably witches looking for him too, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

He also removed his shirt and pants, to wash off the blood. They would take forever to dry, but at least they wouldn’t be bloody. That’s a bad look for someone on the run from the police.

Finally he emerged from the water, shivering violently, when he realized the cord holding his right shoe together had broken. He had no spell to keep warm. He had no spell for starting a fire. He had practiced starting campfires without matches, but he was too cold and tired and afraid to remember how, and shivering too badly to do it even if he did remember all the little details.

Hollowing out a little depression in the ground, he filled it with leaves, then lay down covering himself in leaves – praying for some relief from the cold and that he wouldn’t be covered in bug bites.

It’s possible his prayers were answered, but only if the answer was “no”.

 

[Alice2015]

Near Cripple Creek
Sundown

(OOC: There are so many Springfields in the US that I'm going to make a random Springfield our main city.)

Chloe left the town behind her, but she hadn't gotten far. Less than two miles out of town, she Sensed the Hunter after whom she was searching. She pulled the borrowed Jaguar to the side of the road, got out, and stepped over to the shoulder. She didn't want to cast a powerful Spell for fear of alerting her prey, but she knew that Connor was out in those woods somewhere, and she wasn't going to find him on Innate Abilities alone. She wished she had her jewelry case of Charms with her; most of them were not Sensitive to a Hunter.

She looked down at the pants and boots she was wearing and shook her head. She wasn't going into the woods looking like this. She considered her options: the most reasonable one was to give up the fight for now and go back to her luxury hotel room with its huge bathtub and bottles of bubbles and soothing oils; while the other was to...

"No, you can't be serious," she whispered to herself. She scanned the woods again, thinking It's probably nothing but swamp.

She thought a bit longer, then casted a weak Sensing Spell just to reassure herself that Connor was actually out here. She gained more information than she'd expected: he was, without a doubt, out there; he wasn't moving; and he was weak. That last part was the most motivational part of Chloe's desire to continue the search. With the right Magic, there was a good chance that she could approach him -- even deal with him for an extended time -- without him realizing that she was a Witch, let alone the one he'd been hunting.

But it was going to take some time and planning. A few cars passed by without taking much notice of her, until one slowed and stopped on the opposite shoulder. The driver called out through his now opened window, "You okay...? You broken down?"

Chloe crossed the road toward him, putting a little extra swing into her hips for his entertainment. The show worked; moments later, he was leading her down the highway and down his driveway without her having to cast a Controlling Spell. At his house, he called out his wife and three sons, whose ages ranged from 13 to 23; they, too, were easy to manipulate into her plan without Magic, though, the wives of the man and his eldest son required the sprinkling of an Influence Spell, something Chloe tended to carry with her for such situations.

Within the hour, Chloe was wearing raggedy old jeans, a plaid wool shirt, rubber boots, and suspenders as she followed the four males and their three hunting dogs out into the woods. As she began Sensing Connor's proximity, she casted another Spell to hide her true identity; to the Hunter, she would appear to be nothing more than another concerned searcher.

Less than an hour after they'd started, the hounds had located Chloe's prey. Connor was lying in a little depression in the ground that he'd dug with his own hands, surrounded both above and below by fallen, wet leaves. She casted Spát to ensure that the Hunter remained in Sleep, after which the four males worked together to lift Connor out of the hole and carry him back to their home.

There, the women stripped Connor out of his wet, muddy clothes down to his underwear, after which the men again worked together to lay him across the rickety old dining table. The two wives used warm water and rags to clean him from head to toes. The Patriarch had already asked Chloe to explain what was happening a dozen times in a dozen ways, but now she casted a Spell to direct his attention to serving her and, more importantly, shut him the hell up.

When the women finished cleaning Connor up -- even washing his hair by gently placing his head in a pan of hot water -- the men of the family carried the Hunter to the father and mother's bed, slipping him inside the bedding. Chloe casted one last spell; the family members left the bedroom and went to work preparing dinner and cleaning the dusty, damp house to make it more suitable for Chloe's particular tastes since she thought they might be here a while.

Chloe had watched the women cleaning the young man's body, and she'd been impressed with him. He was fit -- not Arnold Schwarzenegger-fit but certainly Zac Efron-fit -- and while the women hadn't removed his underwear, Chloe had seen enough to know that what she was seeing flaccid would most likely be impressive if hardened. The eldest son's wife -- her name was Lizzie -- had spied Connor's package, too, trying to be inconspicuous as her husband eyeballed her but failing from Chloe's point of view.

The Witch had caught Lizzie spying someone else's body as well: Chloe's. As the rest of the family tended to the house, the Witch called the young woman into the hallway, asking, "How old are you?"

"I turned 19 last week," the girl answered.

"Are you faithful to your husband?" Chloe asked.

"Of course!" Lizzie answered. But after Chloe waved a hand before her, murmuring a word the younger thing didn't understand, she confessed reluctantly, "No, I, um..." She looked out to the living area, gestured toward her husband's father, then also gestured to the youngest of the three brothers, whispering, "Him, too."

Chloe smiled and shook her head lightly, saying softly, "Good girl. You do what feels right." The Witch stepped closer, reached out a hand to caress Lizzie's jawline, and whispered, "Prosíme mě, dokud ti neřeknu, abys přestal."

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>​

Half an hour later, in a second bedroom, Chloe exploded in orgasm for a second time. She grasped a handful of Lizzie's hair and pulled the woman's head out from behind her thighs before urging her up her body to kiss her; Lizzie's face glistened with the pussy juices, which the Witch partook of, kissing and licking at the younger woman's lips, cheek, and chin.

Once Chloe's heartbeat and breathing began returning toward normal, she waved her hand before the woman again.

"What ... what happened...?" a shocked Lizzie asked. She practically jumped from the bed, looking down at and then trying to hide her body behind the insufficient coverage of her palms. She looked to Chloe, who's thighs were still parted, revealing her excitement-swelled labia and clit, also glistening from what Lizzie had done. "What did you do to me?"

"I casted a Spell on you," Chloe confessed as she stood, finding a cloth to dry between her thighs. "I'm a Witch. I casted a Spell on you ... Please me until I tell you to cease, to be specific."

By now the young woman was beginning to sob in panic at what she realized she'd done. Chloe -- wearing only her panties -- was walking toward the bedroom door as she spoke. She opened the door and roughly pushed Lizzie out into the living space, where the rest of her family had been silent and stationary, under yet another spell. Chloe now suspended that Magic, and within seconds a family squabble erupted, first between the husband and his naked wife, then eventually all of them.

In the bedroom, Chloe smiled, then chuckled. She breathed in the Mayhem; she needed it after having used so much Magic in such a short time this evening. By the time she was donned her own clothes again and left the second bedroom, there was a physical brawl taking place between the men of the family. The Witch knew that that was because she'd let it slip that Lizzie was fucking three of the four men and had had intentions to fuck the fourth one, too.

In the master bedroom, Chloe suspended the spell on Connor, causing him to awaken almost immediately. He wouldn't remember anything that had happened to him today; Chloe had wiped his memory of the day, which was part of the reason for her needing the Mayhem taking place beyond the bedroom door.

He also wouldn't be able to Sense that Chloe was a Witch. She smiled to the Hunter, asking, "How do you feel, Connor...? We found you in the woods, lost. Do you remember how you got there?"

She knew that today's happenings would come back to him eventually -- a permanent spell to wipe Connor's memory was simply too taxing for the good it would get Chloe -- but for now she was confident that he wouldn't remember anything threatening to her. She looked to the clean clothes on the end of the bed, asking, "Do you want to dress...? We need to be on our way soon."

The fight beyond the door resulted in something crashing to the floor. Chloe held an extended finger up in a Wait one gesture, then went to the door, opened it, and called out loudly, "Zmlkni!" In an instant, they shut up, just as Chloe had ordered. She moved back to Connor, smiling as she retrieved the pants and offered them out. She chuckled at his obvious reluctance to have her see him in nothing but his underwear.

"It's okay, I've seen it before, Connor," she said. "We're lovers. Don't you remember?"

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

As Connor's mind and body trying to get into synch following all the magical manipulations they had undergone, he could only do a bit of moaning and groaning as he tried to get his bearings.

"How do you feel, Connor...? We found you in the woods, lost. Do you remember how you got there?"

"Do you want to dress...? We need to be on our way soon."

“Foun… found.. me? Wha? Where am I?” then with a little look of horror, it took him a moment to even remember who he was. And what he was. “No, I.. must have.. hit my head or something.” There was indeed a dull ache to the head, but that was nothing compared to the bigger ache in pretty much every muscle in his body, and especially in his legs. Chloe’s magic could make him sleep or make him wake up and make him forget the events of a day or two, but she hadn’t done anything to actually heal the body, just manipulate it a bit.

"It's okay, I've seen it before, Connor. We're lovers. Don't you remember?"

“I.. we’re.. lovers?”

He immediately realized his mistake. “Oh, I mean.. yeah… of course. I’m just a little … turned around.” He realized if they were lovers, then she must know – know that thing that hunters tell their mates.

“Was I … on a hunt?”

The last thing Connor could remember was making plans to go to the city next day, to Old Sam’s, to pick up a load of old lawnmowers and other yard and garden equipment to see if he could get any of it working to resell.

“I.. ache.. all over.” It must have been a hell of a fight, and he must have done alright, since he was still alive. On the other hand, he must not have done spectacularly, since he had to be found in the woods by his girlfriend and her friends, with no memory of what happened.

Despite all his body and mind had been through, Seeing Chloe like this, he had no trouble getting erect. In fact, he was trying not to. Something inside him told him he shouldn’t be getting hard – not at a time like this. There were more important things that needed to be done.

“I don’t remember anything about… how long was I gone?” Not only did he not remember the events leading up to his being lost in the woods. He couldn’t even remember ever having sex with anyone. He was happy to know it happened, and with someone as beautiful as – whatever her name is – but he sure wished he could remember it.

His mind was going into overdrive now, trying to remember … things. Remember what happened to him. Remember this woman, his lover. Remember her name. As bad off as he was, he had the presence of mind to not ask her what her name was.

“Oh, right… dress.. yeah…” he sat up in the bed – much too quickly, and it felt as if his head was exploding as he fell backwards. “Ugh.. I don’t know.. maybe.. give me a couple of minutes, okay?”

 

[Alice2015]

“Foun… found.. me? Wha? Where am I?” Connor stumbled as his mind came back to him.

Chloe answered in a calm, even loving tone, "You're safe, that's what matters." Wanting to know how well her Spell was working, she inquired, "Do you remember what happened, honey ... or ... how you got here?"

She was fully prepared to cast any of a number of Spells on Connor if it became necessary. One of them that she had waiting in the recesses of her mind would essentially fry his own mind. But Chloe really didn't want to do that, for two reasons: she was enjoying what was happening, like a cat playing with a mouse it had caught; and if she killed Connor, she had to kill the Clampetts, too.

The irony of killing them all was this: it would take a great deal of power to do away with all of them, and she'd have to isolate herself for possibly as much as a month to regain her energy; and yet the Mayhem bonus -- it sounded like some sort of Dungeons and Dragons thing, she thought -- from doing it would benefit Chloe in the longterm.

“No, I.. must have.. hit my head or something,” he answered her question. He listened to her lie about their relationship, asking, “I.. we’re.. lovers?” He paused, his expression revealing concern as he continued, “Oh, I mean.. yeah… of course. I’m just a little … turned around.”

Chloe giggled, reaching out a hand to caress Connor's thigh just a few inches from his cock, which she could see through the bedding was already partially or fully stiff. She said with a flirty tone, "I'd like to think being with me was enough to turn you around."

He must have been buying what she was saying, or he was just a good actor. He asked, “Was I … on a hunt?”

"You were!" she told him. "A successful one. You and Magellan got the Witch." She squeezed his thigh again, saying with feign joy, "I'm so proud of you, Connor."

“I.. ache.. all over,” he complained, wincing as he moved.

"Well, you should!" Chloe continued her lie. "It was quite a fight. I was there ... but you kept me safe ... got me away before that Wicked Witch could attack." Again, another squeeze, then, "Thank you, lover."

“I don’t remember anything about…" he admitted. "How long was I gone?”

"Oh, it happened just this morning," she told him. Chloe thought that sticking close to the truth -- well, close to some of the truth -- might help support her fantasy story. "Down at the waterfront, in Springfield, off Willow Avenue. Remember? She attacked you and Magellan as you were driving through the city. It was a cruel, vicious, cowardly ambush. Those Witches, they should be ashamed of themselves."

She urged him to get dressed again, to which Connor said, “Oh, right… dress.. yeah…” He was unsteady and dizzy, though, falling back into the bed. “Ugh ... I don’t know ... maybe ... give me a couple of minutes, okay?”

"Of course, lover," Chloe said, scooting her butt up the bed until she was close enough to lean over and press her mouth to his. It was a warm, wet, slow, and erotic kiss, and also a test; actual physical contact with the Hunter had the distinct possibility of dispelling the Magic she was using on him.

Ironically, that was what had led to Chloe killing Connor's father a decade and a half ago. Of course, they'd been doing much more than just kissing; Valentin Jansky had been balls deep inside Chloe at the time, pumping away and filling her with his seed. That hadn't been a problem for Chloe; she'd been using a seriously powerful combination of Innate Powers, Spells, Potions, and Charms to keep her identity hidden from him.

The problem had come when Valentin's skilled fucking led to Chloe's orgasm, at which time her Innate Powers slacked just enough to drop the Veil Spell. In an instant, the Hunter realized just who he'd been fucking; just as quickly, Chloe realized her error and reacted. Grasping the back of Valentin's neck with one hand and pressing the other to his forehead, the Witch chanted loudly and quickly, "Míchat a vařit! Míchat a vařit! Míchat a vařit! Míchat a vařit! Míchat a vařit!"

Instantly, Valentin's ability to think was interrupted by the Scramble portion of the chant; he lost control of his appendages, his arms and legs flopping while even his cock twitched and pulsed, ironically putting even more of his jizz inside Chloe's pussy. But the real damage to him, that which killed him, was the Cook half of the chant; it caused the temperature inside his skull to rise rapidly, to the 100s, the 110s, the 120s. His brain was literally cooking within its bony container; following close behind it was his body, which heated up, turned red, began to char, and finally burst out in flames.

At that point, Chloe -- who'd been fully protected from the Spell -- quickly dismounted her lover's spasming cock, then stood back to watch Valentin's form burn from within. He made no noise, unable to scream or cry out, but sound came from his form not unlike the sound of a hotdog sizzling on the grill. It had been horrific for him, without question.

It had been a mixed bag for Chloe, though. The surge of Mayhem-fueled energy while she'd been so intimately in contact with Valentin, while she'd been boiling his brain and -- she thought! -- ending his Paternal Line, had caused her more instant joy than even the powerful orgasm that had preceded it.

But that gained energy had only been short term. By the time she'd gotten home -- leaving his charred body behind to be found in the bed he shared with his Spontánní čarodějnice wife, his Dormant Witch spouse -- Chloe was as zapped of energy as she'd been in centuries. It would take her almost a month of isolation and rejuvenation before she felt well enough to be out in public without feeling vulnerable.

She pulled her mouth back from Connor's, asking, "Can I get you anything...? Water ... something to eat?"

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Connor could not remember ever having been kissed like that before. The reason, of course, was because he hadn’t. Sure, he had been kissed a couple of times, but growing up in Cripple Creek everyone in his age group had been warned – not to get too friendly with Connor. Something wasn’t right about him – or about his family. Better to go play with the family cooking Meth just outside the city limits than the strange kid.

Ironic since Connor was so “cute”.

His first kiss, from Paula Worthington, was hardly worth remembering except it was his first. She was no ravishing beauty, and was probably kissing him just to defy her parents.

How much more beautifully could Connor have been set up to fall completely and irrevocably head-over-heels in love with Chloe? If he’d been 95% erect before, that kiss brought him up to 110%.

He probably should have asked about Magellan, but after that kiss he would be hard pressed to remember the man's name, much less to remember to ask about his welfare.

She said they were “lovers” and she knew about his work as a Hunter. Had even gone on a hunt with him? Was he crazy? To risk her safety like that? Maybe, lovers … maybe, they were married? He discretely felt for a ring, but there was none. Of course one doesn’t wear a wedding band on a witch hunt. He tried to see if she was wearing a wedding ring.

No? But, he told her he was a Hunter, and you only tell a woman that if … if she’s the one.

But he can’t remember her name!

“Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s a possibility that .. the witch, or witches, cast a spell on me that’s lingering. So – don’t be alarmed or upset, this obviously isn’t because I don’t love you – but there’s a lot I can’t remember. That has all the earmarks of a spell. A.. a.. forgetting spell.” He couldn’t think of there was a more proper name for it. “So.. like.. she.. they.. I.. I can’t remember your name. Surely that’s something I would never forget if not for a spell, right?”

He’ll want to know everything. How and when and where they met. Their first kiss. Their first time to make love. Has he proposed yet? But first there were more important things to do, and one thing that could perhaps fix everything at once.

“No... no.. not hungry, or thirsty." It was a lie, but something inside him didn't want to see her - his lover - have to go to any trouble for him. He could get his own drink of water later. First, he needed something to counter the spell he was under. "Have I given you the combination to the safe yet?”

He was struggling to regain his strength and sense of balance – managed to sit up on the edge of the bed, and was slowly pulling on his trousers.

"I'm feeling pretty weak, and I might need you to help me open it when we get back to the shop."

 

[Alice2015]

Chloe saw the reaction in Connor's reaction to the kiss and, even more so, Sensed how much it had meant to him, and a wide, devilish smirk spread her lips as her brain cried out its discovery, Oh my God ... he's a virgin! This was very helpful information to Chloe as it told her that he might very well be more susceptible to her feminine wiles than even had been his father and grandfather.

Of course, that was one possibility. The other was that he'd had the virtue of chastity whipped into him all his life by Magellan, his mother, and who knows how many other role models, both in and out of the Hunter Society. But the look in Connor's eyes and the gooseflesh exploded up and down his arms and across his shoulders made Chloe confident that the young Hunter had long been anticipating the day he could finally feel the delight of a woman's pussy wrapped around his cock.

“Look, I don’t want to alarm you," Connor began, explaining that he thought he might still be under a Witch's spell."...I ... I can’t remember your name. Surely that’s something I would never forget if not for a spell, right?”

Chloe chuckled, then leaned in and kissed him on the mouth again. Pulling back, she looked him in the eyes and told him, "No, I don't think you would forget my name if it wasn't for one of those Wicked Witches." She kissed him once more, then -- thinking it might be more fun to go this direction -- she told him, "Your name is Connor. Connor Reynolds."

She paused a moment to see if alarm bells went off in his failing memory; he either didn't disbelieve her or did disbelieve her but thought it was safer not to challenge her. Chloe continued, "You're Connor Reynolds, you're 20 years old -- or will be day after tomorrow -- and currently you're homeless."

Chloe saw his reaction to that, then laughed while once again squeezing his thighs just inches from the now conspicuously hard cock that was lifting the bedding a couple of inches near her fingers. "I don't mean living on the street homeless. I mean since the Witch found your home and attacked you there. You can't go back there. I'm sure they're watching it."

Then, worrying that maybe she was sounding too much like an expert on the subject of Witches and Hunters, Chloe said with a somewhat naive tone in her voice, "At least, that's what you said while you were recovering. You were talking in your sleep. You said we shouldn't go back there because they'd be watching the ... shop."

Chloe pulled that last word out at the last second, wanting to sound more informed about the location of the Jansky's center of activity. It seemed that Connor bought her knowledge of their lives together.

After turning down food and water, Connor asked, "Have I given you the combination to the safe yet?”

Chloe had to hide her great interest in hearing about a safe. The presence of a safe indicated things that needed to be saved, obviously. And one of the things Hunters like to keep safely locked up were the Spell books and scrolls, their Portion ingredient lists and mixing processes, and -- the most important of them all, as far as Chloe was concerned -- their Charms.

Charms, of course, were a Magical item used by both Witches and Hunters; some of them were Witch only, Hunter only, or usable by both. But the one major difference between Charms held by Witches and Hunters was Sensitivity: while a Hunter with a good sense of ... well ... Sense could detect a Witch's Charm within a distance proportional to his own skills and experience, a Witch -- even a 900-year-old, highly skilled, very dangerous Witch like Alžběta Svoboda could not Sense a Hunter's Charm ... at all, even if he was wearing it under his shirt right damn well in front of her!

No one knew where this inconsistency had come from, but then, there was so much about the whole Witchy-Hunter story that was still unknown thousands of years after the first Witch had killed the first Hunter ... or the other way around, no one could be sure.

All Chloe knew was that if she could get her hands on that safe and then get her hands on Connor's and/or Magellan's Charms ... oh, the Coven would elect her Queen of the Witchy Ball ... if there was such a thing, of course. She leaned in and kissed Connor softly once more, telling him in whispers as if she didn't want anyone else hearing, "No, you told me about the safe and you were going to give me the combination ... you know, in case something happened to you or Magellan. But you didn't have the chance."

Connor managed to sit up with the intention of getting dressed but then fell back into the bed again. He told her with a weak voice, "I'm feeling pretty weak, and I might need you to help me open it when we get back to the shop."

"Are you sure about that, lover?" she said with a feigned tone of concern. Chloe slid her hand up his thigh a bit more, far enough that the tip of her forefinger came into contact with his nuts through the blanket. She gave his thigh another squeeze, then -- with a flirty tone in her voice -- said, "I mean, can you risk going back there? The Witches ... what do they call them, a Cover...? No, a Coven, right?

"You told me that they'd be watching the shop," Chloe continued her tale. "Do you want to give me the combination ... and I'll go get whatever's in it and bring it back to you here? I mean, the Witches didn't see me at the Battle." She smiled wider, lying, "You were so brave in distracting them to keep me hidden and save my life, lover. So brave."

Chloe felt a bit of a tingle up her spine, a warning that she was using her Magical Energy at a rate that wasn't sustainable long term. She either had to dig down deeper to maintain her ruse or go cause some Mayhem to replenish her reserves. "Maybe I should go to the shop and see what's happening?"

Then, reaching up even further and cupping his rock-solid cock, Chloe purred, "And when I get back ... we could ... you know ... because we're so good at doing that with each other."

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

He couldn't let her, the woman he loved, go alone. That would be too dangerous.

"You don't understand witches. There's no way you could go there by yourself and ... they would know who you are and what you're doing. Even if you managed to get in, once you opened the safe they could sense it. There's some very important powerful things in there. Some charms and potions, and a couple of books. I ... I love you too much to let you take that risk. We'll have to figure out another way."

He loved her. What that feeling does for a man like Connor, who had never experienced love until - until this woman came into his life. There was nothing like it in the Universe.

"The witch's spell could make me forget your name, and even make me forget my own - but I don't think there's any kind of magic that could make me think I don't love you."

The other thing the witch's spell couldn't make him forget was his life of loneliness before she came along. Almost twenty, and he's never had a girlfriend - looked down upon and shunned by a whole community. No father, a mother who was an embarrassment to him ... he pulled the woman to him, not so much because of sexual titillation but because he was overcome with emotion. He'd spent his life in need of human contact, and this hug ..

"Thank you God," he whispered, "for bringing this woman into my life." Then he was silent for a good long while, just relishing her presence. The physical contact. Then he whispered to the woman ... "I'll never forgive myself for being so weak that a witch's spell could make me not remember your name. What do I call you? Please tell me. Please."