"Ready?" Victor asked, a cup of coffee in his hand.
Jemi nodded, a flashlight raised in hers. "Of course. Are we leaving now?"
Victor nodded back, then moved ahead, signaling for Jemi to stay behind him.
Early autumn was Jemi's favorite time of year. Aside from the clouds that now seemed to hang low almost constantly, the air felt fresher after months of suffocating summer humidity. And honestly—of all the seasons, summer was the one Jemi hated most.
She took a deep breath of the night air as she followed Victor across the street. Her sharp gaze swept every corner around them. The neighborhood was eerily quiet.
Some houses had deliberately turned off their lights to make it look as if no one was home. The terror of witch hunters had driven everyone into fear.
"Doesn't it feel even creepier when they turn off the lights?" Jemi muttered, nearly whispering, once they reached the front door of Mrs. Wassel's house.
"For them, making it obvious no one's home probably feels safer," Victor replied.
Jemi glanced around again. "Safer from the hunters… or because they're afraid of witches?"
Victor turned slightly, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "No idea. But one thing's clear—they're scared."
That was only natural. Watching someone get burned alive would scar anyone. Mrs. Wassel's screams could tear at anyone's heart—except those cruel hunters. No wonder fear now ruled the town.
"So… how are we getting in?" Jemi asked. "I could probably slip through that gap. But you?" She compared the narrow opening between the wooden boards with Victor's tall, broad, perfectly built frame.
She blinked once, only now realizing just how good his posture actually was.
Victor smirked and glanced left and right. The next second, he moved—leaping forward as if to pounce on her. In a blink, his tall body shifted into a light-gray wolf. His eyes gleamed with pride as he looked at Jemi.
"Husky! You really are smart. Let's go!"
Victor let out an annoyed growl at the nickname, but he still followed her as she slipped through the gap between the nailed boards blocking the entrance.
The flashlight in Jemi's grip swept across the room, probing every corner for answers. If she were Mrs. Wassel, she wouldn't leave anything in the living room—nothing that could serve as proof she was a witch.
Edd and Agatha had a secret bunker beneath their kitchen table. A hidden room where they stored magical tools—herbs for potions, unicorn nails hundreds of years old. Everything was there.
Jemi was certain that if Mrs. Wassel truly was a witch, the old woman would have something similar.
"Jemi," Victor called after releasing his transformation spell. "Do you want to check upstairs first?"
She stepped closer, peering toward the staircase. "You think there's something up there?" she asked as she placed one foot carefully after the other on the steps.
Victor only cleared his throat, following closely behind her. Dust coated the handrail. The air felt cold. Jemi realized then how quickly a house drained of its owner's energy could turn hollow.
Or… too quickly.
They reached the top of the stairs. There was only one room upstairs, unlike Jemi's parents' house, which had three. In Mrs. Wassel's home, all the partitions had been torn down into one wide space, with a black-carved door already standing open by the time they reached the last step.
"Only one door?" Victor muttered to himself.
A loud creak echoed from inside the room.
Jemi's heart slammed violently. Her flashlight nearly slipped from her hand. Her steps faltered as her pulse quickened.
But she refused to stop because of a sound. Victor was right behind her—she could see his shadow reflected on the wall. That was enough to keep her moving.
One step… two steps…
Her feet carried her to the threshold. Her knees weakened, her breathing grew shallow. In the darkness, her eyes couldn't fully trust what they saw. Without realizing it, she grabbed Victor's arm, now standing beside her.
"Victor…"
The large room—Mrs. Wassel's bedroom—was in chaos. Wardrobes and drawers stood open, belongings scattered across the floor. But that wasn't what made Jemi tense. Her eyes locked onto the white wall, where words were scrawled in thick letters:
ALL WITCHES DESERVE TO DIE!!!
A sharp, metallic stench filled the air as Jemi stepped closer. That wasn't red paint. It was blood. This madness—this obsession—had pushed the hunters beyond all limits.
She froze again when her toe nudged something furry. Reflexively, she looked down. The next second, she stumbled back, eyes wide.
"Vic…"
Victor rushed over. The same shock crossed his face when he saw what had drained the color from hers. He reached down and lifted a black cat—lifeless. A clean, deep slit ran along its throat.
Without realizing it, Jemi reached out too. The cat's body was wet, thick with blood against her skin.
"It's still warm," Victor said, gently placing the body back on the floor.
"Insane," Jemi whispered, then looked again at the writing on the wall. "It hasn't even dried yet." Her voice trembled, nearly breaking.
Nausea surged through her. Her vision blurred, a sharp ringing filling her ears. What was really happening? What crime was it to be born a witch?
Victor grabbed Jemi's hand and dragged her out of the house. In the darkness downstairs, he forced open the back door and pulled her into a run.
Less than a minute later, they were back inside Jemi's house. Victor rushed to the kitchen while Jemi collapsed onto the living room couch, gasping for air. Breaking into Mrs. Wassel's house had been a terrible idea.
"Jemi, are you okay?" Victor asked anxiously, returning with a basin of water and a clean towel.
She didn't answer right away—only stared at him, shaken. The bold courage she'd had all day vanished in an instant. Embarrassing as it was, her hands were visibly trembling. She couldn't hide her fear.
"You saw it, right? The writing?" Her voice was barely audible. "Whoever did that must've just left before we got there, Vic. The cat was still warm. The blood hadn't even dried!"
Victor nodded. "Easy, Jemi. I saw it," he said softly, rubbing her hands until the sticky, metallic-smelling liquid was gone.
The water in the basin turned a deep crimson.
"After this," Victor said after setting the basin aside, "please… let's stop investigating this and just live normally—like our parents asked. Okay?"
Jemi looked at him, hollow-eyed. "But Vic… can we really live a normal life after seeing all that?"