#wr cece chatzy

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Face Off || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece go digging for buried witchy treasure. Cece faces more than she bargained for.

CONTAINS: gun (salt rounds, not fired), shenanigans 

Blanche had told Morgan that having an object, especially one belonging to the spirit in life, might help the seance go better. Morgan knew from the summoning that bones would probably be the most ideal if there was such a thing, but the idea of planning a trip to Texas ahead of the one she had already scheduled between the anniversaries of her parents’ deaths was more than she could bear. The next best thing? Finding Agnes Bachman’s trove of witchcraft. “So, fun fact, I actually tried to dig this up before, but I got attacked by some wild vampires and had to hole up in that shack until dawn,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Cece. “But that’s why we’re coming back here in broad daylight! Besides, I think this is still sort of on my property line?” She gestured to the pile of rubble around across the street and the brown, barren field between it and where they stood in the Bend, shovels in hand, beneath a suspiciously robust tree. Morgan tried to run the distance measurements in her head. “Maybe not, but that’s gonna be our story if anyone comes asking. But, you know, probably not.” She stuck the shovel into the ground with her foot, pleasantly surprised when it broke the ground with ease. Zombie strength had its advantages sometimes. “So, how’ve you been?”

Drinking and researching a stolen box with Morgan? A-okay. Breaking into a woman’s home to steals some books? Great time. But Cece might have to draw the line at the physical labor. It wasn’t the trespassing on property or potential danger. It wasn’t even the casual mention of vampires attacking Morgan the last time she was here. It was mostly just the digging that Cece wasn’t up for. “We tend to break the law whenever we hang out now,” Cece mentioned, digging her own shovel into the ground and leaning against it, ��Not complaining. Just a fun observation. Girls really do just want to have fun apparently.” While digging holes wasn’t one of those things that Cece considered to be much fun, the promise of some sort of buried treasure had certainly piqued her interest. “Aside from the whole being blown up in a Morgue thing, worse than that is dealing with Regan’s replacement.” Cece made fake vomiting noises for far longer than necessary and then forced herself to recompose, “Otherwise I am freaking phenomenal. Clearly you’re living your best life. Loving the Holes vibes that we have going on. So what exactly are we here for today?”

“I heard about that,” Morgan said, wincing. “Regan’s just having a time and a half right now. Hopefully it’ll just, you know, be temporary. Haven’t heard any stories about the new boss, though. Is he, what? Evil? Creepy? Mean? What’s the likelihood of your being able to hex him without him noticing? I put a monkey’s paw on Eye of Newt for a little while, and that was pretty fun.” She reached into her bag and passed Cece a thermos of mulled cider. She could see how, well, not well her share of the digging was going, and aside from the magic ability and know how to work on identifying their finds, Morgan had mostly asked her along for the company. “Here. Have some of this and sit back, I think it only takes one gal to dig a hole. When she’s dead anyway.” Morgan stuck her shovel in deeper, flinging dirt behind her. “And we’re after great great grandma Agnes’ trove of magic. She left home with one bag after the curse started taking her family, which means everything in her trove got left behind in good ol’ White Crest.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Mostly, I want something special of hers for a seance, but it’s gonna be pretty neat to see what kind of stuff she used for her magic back in olden times, right?”

“No, god, even worse.” Cece rolled her eyes. Rickers was the last thing she needed to talk about. “I can handle evil or creepy. He’s way too personable. Keeps telling me about his grandkids. It’s insufferable.” Usually, Cece welcomed casual conversation of any kind. She was a social creature after all, she liked the company of others. But something about that man made her want to jump into a river. “I could hex him so easily. He’s so gullible. Moron.” She wasn’t about to let Rickers ruin the fun though, and instead focused on Morgan’s time with Eye of Newt, “Amazing. I love being friends. Do I mention that enough?” Cece questioned, taking the thermos that Morgan passed over and taking a long sip of the alcoholic beverage. “So you’re saying you just want me to sit back, drink and chat? You get me, Morgan.” Cece happily obliged, leaning back against the grass and watching Morgan use that superhuman strength to dig holes deeper into the ground with a certain fascination. She had always wondered what having super strength must be like. Sounded dope. “Good ol Gram? Let’s hope she left behind something fun. Can’t say that I’d be thrilled about finding some magically glued dentures or alchemical ointment for her joint pain.”

“I love being friends with you too,” Morgan said, smiling bright. There was a certain specific ease with Cece that was hard to articulate to others. Their magic philosophy was different, but neither of them took themselves so seriously that it was a problem. And sharing a lack of compunctions about the law and uses of violence to get out of tight spaces was more important between friends who wanted to stay honest with each other. Morgan wasn’t even sure if Cece had a judgemental bone in her body, except for, you know, reckless cruelty like any halfway decent not-fae. But Morgan’s harm ritual wasn’t reckless. She was full of very specific intent, and every care was being taken. And giving Agnes closure with the news she was deviating the woman who’d condemned her to a painful death? Made for some very thoughtful icing on the cake. “Oh, it gets better than that,” Morgan said, grinning as she shoveled back more dirt. “She was just in her twenties when she left home. So this should hopefully have all the fun shit. Well, whatever fun amounted to in the 1890’s. Maybe it’ll be magic ointment for that poofy old-timey hair. Or old beauty charms? I’d love to see what baby witches got up to back then, like what was magic education even like then?”

Cece liked thinking about witches throughout the years. There was something fascinating about studying how witches evolved with the rest of the times, as well as how spells did. If spellcasters were ever a legitimate field of study, Cece might actually consider going back to school. For now, she’d have to settle through learning about magic through any witches she knew with a long line of witches in her family. “Great question. Can’t say that my witchy upbringing was exactly conventional. If my parents were spellcasters, being adopted didn’t exactly help me learn about it as a kid.” Cece had of course wondered what life might have been like had she actually grown up learning about magic from a young age. “My first exposure was from a coven. A very non-traditional one.”

“Your coven wasn’t with your parents?” Morgan asked curiously. She’d heard them mentioned in passing enough times that she’d just assumed it was at least partially a family thing. Morgan started digging, stopped, and looked at Cece quizzically again. “Wait, so you are this good without having to study your whole life?” She shovelled a few more times. “Jeez, are you some kind of magic prodigy?” She had a decent sized hole going. A  few more feet deeper and she’s start spreading outward and--clang! Morgan grinned. “I guess this means you get to pick a prize from grandma’s treasure box. At least something in here should go to someone who can actually use it. But holy shit, Cece. I know I say this a lot when you’re doing me favors, but you’re seriously amazing.” She started working double time until the trunk, just as impressive as you would expect from your average 19th century well-to-do family. Morgan pulled it free just with brute zombie strength and dragged it up from the hole. It was heavy,  “Now, before I literally jinx myself, do you think you can run something on this baby to dispel any magic seals and protection? As my ancestor, I’m fairly confident she wouldn’t throw this in the ground without protections.”

Cece shook her head, “Nope. My adopted parents had no clue about my witchy background. I didn’t figure out until like sixteen.” Cece shrugged. She had never considered herself to be uncommonly talented when it came to magic. She was aware that she was able to take care of herself under stressful circumstances but the thought never went much further than that. “Very funny,” Cece let out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m hardly a prodigy. The nice thing about moving around with a travelling coven is that I got to learn from all kinds of witches that specialized in different things. Plus being around nothing but other witches all the time gave me lots of chances to practice.” Morgan finally found the box she had been digging for and pulled it easily from the ground. It landed on the grass with a loud thud and Cece whistled, “Damn girl, those muscles though.” Cece sat up and eyed the box. It was larger than Cece thought it was going to be. Honestly, she was pretty curious about what was inside. “Let me take a peak and see what I can sniff out” Cece rubbed her hands together and crawled over to the box, rubbing her palm across it and feeling the magical energy emanating from it. “There’s definitely something going on here. Give me a few minutes to try to get rid of it.”

Morgan was familiar with the number of ways you could talk small magic into showing itself. In another life, her old life, she would’ve offered some ground thistle and raw energy to do it herself. But Cece had a home brew with the stuff she needed. A little Latin later, the potion absorbed into the wood, and the lock, apparently just an illusion, disappeared from sight. “I know you’re not a coven gal anymore, Cece, but I’d do you a solid anytime if you asked.” Out of habit, fae promise, rose to her lips, casual and earnest, but somewhere on its way up her throat, Morgan remembered Chloe in Lydia’s basement and swallowed her words back down, feeling sick.

A layer of dry flowers and fragrant herbs coated the items. Morgan had to sweep them all away to get to the rest. There were some things she expected, such as a handwritten grimoire, and some she didn’t, like an old party dress and petticoats. Morgan didn’t know anything about enchanting textiles, but she set them carefully aside just in case. They must have mattered to Agnes in order to be included in her trove. Beneath this were more papers, some torn from other books, ink and fountain pens, a few alchemical circles painted crudely on tanned hides, and a lot of jewelry and talismans. “So, she’s my great great grandma, so I get the pretty dress and the books, but you, my wonderful partner in crime, can pick something you like from the rest. I still haven’t thanked you for helping me go against that murder alchemist, so don’t be shy.”

As Morgan looked through the chest, Cece eyed the contents from far away. The chest’s magic had been strong, so it made sense to think that whatever was inside had been valuable to her grandmother. As far as Cece was concerned, that all belonged to Morgan. But aside from a few off limits items, Morgan seemed to think otherwise. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you could find some use for them. Somewhere.” But even as she said the words she slid closer to get a better peak at the contents. She pulled out a few things, including a vial of liquid that glowed a bright red color, “Hm. This is peculiar” Cece questioned, holding it up against the sun. She felt a prickling against her fingertips from holding the bottle. She eventually decided to uncap the thing, sniffing at its contents and jolting from the sudden sensation. “Hm. That shit is strong. Wonder what this stuff does?”

Morgan was flipping through the books, unable to resist the urge to find something interesting. She had to remind herself that it was all useless to her, pure sentimental and academic value, but even the method of preserving alchemical circles was fascinating. What did they use the hides for? Practice? Regular exercise? Were there research experiments in here like what Ruth had done? There were notes and letters in here too, some written in a kind of code, others in Latin. Looking at all of this, Morgan realized she didn’t actually know Agnes Bachman at all. She was the family scapegoat, but she was also just a girl when she left all this stuff behind, too terrified of being the cause of her family’s suffering to stay another year. Poor thing, she didn’t realize that Constance had covered them all. She hadn’t needed to make herself alone on top of everything else. “What did you find? Anything good?” She looked over her shoulder and— “What the fuck, who the hell are you!” She fell back with shock and fumbled for her salt pistol, aiming it at the stranger. Morgan hadn’t even heard her approach. It had to look enough like a normal one to keep the stranger stalking them on her toes, right? “Where’s my friend? What is—Cece! Cece!”

Bored with whatever the liquid was, Cece discarded it back into the pile of unclaimed goodies and moved on to see what else Agnes had to offer. Cece realized that aside from the fact that they had been spellcasters and the curse, she didn’t know all that much about Morgan’s family. Learning a bit about her family through these belongings was more interesting than Cece would be willing to admit without a few drinks. Way too sentimental. She heard Morgan from over her shoulder and didn’t even look back as she began answering, “I don’t know what a lot of it is actually. I’ll need to do some-” she was cut off by her friend’s scream. Morgan was freaking out, tumbling backwards and pulling a fucking gun on her? “What the fuck Morgan? What do you mean who am I? Why do you have a gun pointed at me!” Cece waved her hands wildly, half up in the air in surrender and half accusingly towards Morgan. “Your friend is right here, wondering if she’s about to get capped by a dead girl! You suddenly lose vision or something?”

Morgan scrambled to her feet, still holding out the salt pistol with trembling hands. The woman was middle aged, wild eyed, and a heck of a lot taller than Cece had ever been. She wasn’t sure where she got off trying to pretend they were one and the same. Her angular features had none of Cece’s stubborn charm. They gave the woman a look that was off-kilter even unnerving as she waved her arms around and cried out in her raspy voice. “I am not kidding, whatever magic bullshit you did, some summoning trick, o-or—I don’t know! But you aren’t keeping her!” Morgan shouted I am not losing one more friend to my personal bullshit, you got it? You—” It came on her slowly: the woman’s clothes looked a little like Cece’s but also...not. And she had Cece’s keychain, and there was a bottle at her feet, not quite close right, dripping slowly into the ground. Morgan slowly lowered her pistol, not quite ready to give up the pretense. “If you’re really Cece, then how do we know each other?” She asked.

Something was wrong. Whether that something was with Morgan or with Cece herself was still unclear. Cece stood up, Morgan backing away again but not moving the pistol from it’s target. “Can you point the gun away from me? This isn’t the Wild West.” Though something was clearly off, Cece hadn’t pieced it together yet. For whatever reason, Morgan seemed to think Cece wasn’t who she claimed to be. Was there some illusion? Cece stared at her hands, vaguely aware that something seemed different but realizing that she didn’t look at her hands enough to realize what the difference might be anyways. “How do we know each other? I didn’t know I was signing up for a pop quiz tonight.” Cece laughed, but clearly Morgan wasn’t joking, “Former roomies, forever besties, current hostage.” Cece quipped, “Care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Morgan lowered the salt pistol, her face melting, touched. “Aw, you consider us besties?” Her face twisted into an expression of cringe. On Cece, that was endearing. On a crazed woman who looked like she was nearing fifty, it was a little...odd. Maybe sad. Morgan tried to find the words to explain to her friend how bewildering this looked from her perspective. Whose face was this? How did Cece change her face and not...know. “Okay, okay…” she started, tucking her pistol away. “Uh, fun fact, the pistol is salt rounds only. I just, you know, couldn’t be too careful. Also: what happened to your face! I said you could take something home, not give yourself a weird makeover!” She fumbled for her phone, still keeping her distance in case this was all a trick and she was just being stupid and gullible. “You did something!” She put the selfie camera on and held it out for Maybe-Cece to see. “A very, very weird something! Are you...mind or body swapped? Are you glamoured into one of my dead relatives? You aren’t really...I mean, look! What would you think if you were me!”

“Of course I do. There’s not many others I’ve broken into a house and been held at gunpoint at!” Despite the awkwardness of currently being held at gunpoint, Cece couldn’t stop the lilt in her voice as she confirmed that the two were basically besties. They had been through quite a bit considering they hadn’t known each other at the beginning of the year. “Well I actually do feel marginally better knowing I would have only gotten blasted with salt. Thank god I’m not a ghost.” Cece laughed, taking steps closer to Morgan following the whole debacle. “I didn’t do anything! Just rooted around in your grandma’s chest and-” Cece stopped talking when Morgan offered her phone camera towards her and Cece got a look at who was showing up on the screen. Except this was very clearly not Cece. “What the fuck?” Cece jumped back, visibly shaken for the first in what felt like a truly long time. “Who the fuck am I? Why the fuck do I look like this?” Cece began rubbing her hands against her arms, chanting a dispelling glamour effect to herself and then looked back at the camera. Nothing. “Why isn’t it going away!?”

Morgan’s face quirked into a smile. She wasn’t as vulnerable or demonstrative with Cece as she knew she could’ve tried to be. Cece was just so breathtakingly together and at ease with whatever chaos came her way, like it was no more than a fly she could spike out of her sphere with a swipe of her hand. However much she accepted the mess Morgan dragged them into, Morgan worried the limit of ‘too much’ was just around the corner. But here they were, standing over a hole in the middle of the woods with a salt pistol and dug up treasures and a haywire spell between them—and still friends. “Ghost, creepy middle aged lady, whatever comes next, I’m still glad we’re friends,” Morgan said.

But, obviously, Cece being her friend as Cece was probably best. “Idea one: this is some weird subconscious thing and you’ve got some stuff about your age or your size to deal with. Idea two: you are wearing the face of one of my dead relatives, or their neighbors, or...something. But either way, there’s a solution! We just don’t know it yet. But we will and you will look...w-well, you don’t look bad, really, when you, uh, think about it, but just more...you.” She winced and came around the side of the hole to offer Cece a hug.

Morgan offered a list of options to Cece, who hated all of them. “Definitely not subconscious. I accepted my height many years ago.” Cece waved the first away but backtracked, “That being said. I get that objectively I’m not that tall still but I do feel like a tall glass or water.” The second option seemed likely. Perhaps it was a type of hex that was put on something she had touched by Morgan’s grandma. If that was the case it was some bullshit hex. “Well either it’s a strong ass hex or some new type of magic I haven’t worked with before.” That frustrated Cece more than the hex itself. She could handle looking like this Milf. What she didn’t like was not knowing how to fix it immediately. Morgan came around for a hug and as their arms wrapped around each other Cece smiled, “You know we’re kind of like the same height now.”

“You do have the energy of a tall woman, I guess it’s just a little closer to being official now,” Morgan said with a smirk. “You’ve got, what, a whole inch on me now?” She raised her hand to touch the top of Cece’s head, fluffing some of the brown hair falling in front of her face. “Stars, if you are wearing one of my ancestors’ faces, does this make you like a temporary cousin? Temporary grandma?” She smirked at the idea. “Sorry. Let’s take everything and hit the books at your place, huh? Do some old fashioned trial and error experimenting. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”

Though her head was still spinning at the prospect of looking twice her actual age, Cece tried to compose herself. This had been the most flustered she had allowed herself to be for many, many years. She had no interest in completely losing her cool. Morgan was right, they would fix this. Eventually. Maybe it had a time limit, and Cece would simply wake up in a day or two back to her old, blonde self. In the meantime, how was she supposed to explain this to her roommates? “That’s a good start. Whatever’s going on, I clearly don’t have nearly enough alcohol in my system to deal with it.” Right about now Cece was sure that she had far too much blood in her alcohol system. Depending on how long this lasted, it might be time for a never ending party. “I like to think I just became your cool aunt. I think the moniker suits me.”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Juice Box || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Oh, right. The box. The box from Roy. The box stolen specifically from Roy. Roy’s box.

CONTAINS: ex-roomie shenanigans

Morgan would have gone to see Cece after she was out of the hospital anyway. She felt awful about what had happened at the morgue, and how it had probably cost her a friend, at least for a while. And then there was whatever weird pain and damage a banshee scream would have on human ears. Something like guilt twisted in her stomach as she adjusted in her old spot on the couch and set her water glass on Cece’s coffee table. This wasn’t anything directly to do with her, but she could probably afford to be a better friend than she had been lately. But maybe a little magic research would be a good distraction from the awfulness around them. They’d had enough adventures like this before, maybe Morgan was just feeling nostalgic for earlier times. “So,” she said, nodding at the box, which sat perched on a stack of books she’d brought over. “Any ideas?”

After the morgue incident, Cece was happy to relax at home with something to distract herself. She had felt a surprising amount of guilt following the incident in the hospital. In her less than 48 hour stay she had managed to piss off Grace and steal the memories from Janus the janitor. Both in an attempt to cover the tracks of a woman who refused to talk to her. Maybe Regan had been right, trying to build a friendship with a coworker or boss was a bad idea. It certainly seemed overrated at the moment. Morgan had enlisted Cece’s help to study this magic box. Cece didn’t have all the details yet, but was slowly pressing for more before attempting to open it herself. Before, when Morgan and Cece had discovered a magical artifact used when those lobsters were hanging about the artifact that drained magic. They had been able to quell it by working together and sharing the magic between the two. If this were a similar situation, Morgan didn’t have the same magical abilities she had before. “Well I’m sure it’s magically locked. Probably needs a spellcaster to open it. But I don’t know exactly how to open it. Or if it’s boobytrapped. What context can you give me about the box?”

Morgan laughed uneasily. “Uh, promise not to hate me?” She flashed Cece a sheepish look as she brought it onto her lap and ran her fingers over the markings on the surface again. “It belongs to a crime boss. Some undead asshole named Roy something or whatever. He’s after a friend of mine and she’s hoping to figure some stuff out so he can’t, you know, bump her off so easy. It’s important to him, enough that it was kinda hard to steal. This sigil here--” Morgan pointed to one and held it out for Cece to look at, “Gets used a lot in containment rituals, like when you’re trying to seal something up. It’s a little intense, so maybe whatever’s in here is volatile, or rare, or ephemeral somehow. Problem is, I can’t figure out these--” she pointed to the row of markings along the lid. “Are. Probably if I had done my homework a little more in grade school, I could read it. But I thought I’d ask my genius witchy friend instead of renting a time machine, you know?”

“A crime boss eh? I feel like I’m in a heist movie or something.” Cece wiggled her eyebrows and leaned around the box to study the sigils as Morgan pointed them out to her. She discarded the wine glass she had been holding, abandoning it on the coffee table as she studied the signs closer. “I guess I don’t want to know what a friend of yours is doing pissing off a crime boss?” Actually, Cece very much did want to know. As much as Cece had seen, a crime boss wasn’t something that she had spent a lot of time around. Cece loved trying new things. “They’re a mixture of things from the looks of it.” Cece slid off the couch and onto her knees on the floor, pressing her face close enough to the box that her breath fogged up the silver of the box. “Please, Morgan. Flattery will get you everywhere. Some of these are more containment spells, but some-” Cece pointed at the symbols as she described them, “Are hexes. I can’t tell exactly what they’re supposed to do. But my guess is that it’s a last ditch effort to keep the contents safe in case someone got it open.”

“Uuuuhhhh…” Morgan’s voice lilted up shrilly. Cece had enough mischief in her to pass for fae. It wasn’t hard to figure that she did want to know, but the whole criminal justice system thing was still...a lot for Morgan to wrap her head around. “I could tell you, but you definitely can’t tell your boss. I don’t think she’d be happy knowing I’m a corrupting influence. I’ve lost count of how much weird shit we’ve gotten up to together by this point. You’d think the whole me being dead thing would mean less trouble, but I think we’re getting worse.” She smirked as she spoke, and angled herself in as many weird ways as she needed to look at the hexes Cece had identified. “You ever wish people would just print out a nice label on these things? Like, beware, magic dynamite inside! Or, angry bloodclingers within! But, that looks kinda like some Irish curses I’ve seen in this book… Doesn’t it feel weird to you how light it is?”

Morgan set the box between them and reached over for the book in question, flipping through the pages too quickly to find what she was looking for.“Hey--” she said, turning the pages slowly now. You’d say if you weren’t okay, right?”

“Yeah, well. My boss and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now anyways.” And by that, Cece meant that Regan was not on speaking terms with Cece. Despite the repeated attempts on Cece’s part. The whole thing was bullshit. Especially considering that despite this, Cece had still gone out of her way to make sure that no one poked their heads around Regan’s business or questioned her abilities to do her job. “That being said, I love the idea that you’d be able to corrupt me. I for one cherish every moment we share getting dragged into some crazy shit.” Cece laughed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Morgan had died. Especially since she hadn’t seen it for herself, “Well there’s nothing like the afterlife, am I right?” Cece had to admit that Morgan had a point. It would sure make things a hell of a lot easier. “Witches are way too dramatic to do anything as simple as that, unfortunately. They can never make anything easy.” Morgan pointed out how light it was and Cece had to agree, leaning in closer but not being able to tell anything further. “This whole thing feels weird to me. What would a crime boss need with a magically sealed box? There must be more than meets the eye with this guy. If I’m careful, I should be able to strip the hexes before I start working on getting the box itself open. But keep reading to see if you find anything I don’t know.”

The distraction wasn’t enough, since Morgan decided now was a good time to dive into the personal questions. “Me? Almost certainly not.” Cece laughed the question off. After a moment, she decided to not completely brush the question off, “If you’re asking about the morgue then I’m fine. I’ve had worse done to me than some exploding glass and an earache.” Cece hadn’t told anyone about her days with the coven but figured Morgan would be one of the few she would trust with the information. At least some of the information. Cece didn’t need all of her skeletons dancing around the house. “Nothing that a few glasses of wine and solving a mystery with you can’t solve.” As far as not talking about issues went, Cece wasn’t the only offender, “What about you?”

Morgan scrunched her face up in a way Cece was long familiar with. “I didn’t just mean that,” she said. “But that is good to know. I just… I mean as much as I can’t imagine leaving here anytime soon, I know it can be really cruel sometimes. And you’re all Miss Tough Gal with a smile, but you don’t have to be like that all the time, you know? I just don’t want you to slip through the cracks just because I’m not here so much anymore. I’ve been kinda swept up lately, but I do care about you, tough gal and all. And not just because you do so many nice favors. But if you’re good or you wanna say you’re good, then that’s…good. And, oh, you know me. Cursed or not cursed, apparently there’s always something. Lots of gory details we didn’t make it to sharing on the dash.”

It took Morgan a few more pages to find what she was looking for, but she hesitated before showing the witch, just in case there was more to say.

Cece supposed there was no better time than now to discuss this, though Cece usually preferred any serious conversation be prefaced with a lot of alcohol. More than Cece had drunk so far. More than Cece probably had in the house. “Honestly? I’ve always been like this. Full disclosure, I was in a coven before I came to town. Things didn’t end so well with them and it always keeps me a bit on edge. Even before joining the coven, I wasn’t really one to take life super seriously. I had a pretty laid back childhood with a surprising lack of trauma so I guess when I turned eighteen life decided I had to make up for it.” Cece talked with an airiness, trying to show Morgan that she was trying to be sincere without trying to sound too much like she was whining about her past. “I have plenty of things that should keep me up at night, but I promise the injuries from the morgue aren’t one of them. I’ll seriously be okay. But trust me, even living apart I know you’ve got my back. Same to you.” Gory details didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “Yeah, what the hell? I thought you were done with the whole curse and ghost bullshit? Because ‘gory details’” Cece made finger quotations to match with her tone, “doesn’t sound very fun.”

Morgan listened thoughtfully, smiling wistfully at the thought of a good or ‘before’ times that lasted longer than eight or twelve years. But how awful, still, to know exactly the stability you were losing. To never be able to exhale or relax. Well, that part Morgan  knew too well. Maybe that had something to do with why they got along so easily. You had to keep things light when you had one eye on the present and one over your shoulder. “Those are some pretty ominous Sparknotes. I’m starting to take back all those times tiny me wished for a real coven besides just my parents. If any of them come knocking, you’ll holler though, yeah? Partial magic immunity makes for a great zombie perk in a pinch.” Morgan smirked at Cece’s question to her. Fun was...definitely not a word to use for this. “You’d be right,” she said. “I...honestly don’t know what the sparknotes version of that is. So maybe you’ll have to drag me into a sequel session just to find out.” She huffed and held out the book. “Found our guy. Check out the common uses. What does ‘source’ even mean? Like...power source? Is that a real thing?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But fingers crossed I never see any of them again.” Cece laughed, although the idea of any of her former coven members finding Cece’s location and showing up in town was anything but a laughing matter. Something told her they wouldn’t want to catch up. And if they did, Morgan wasn’t who she would want to get involved although she made a good point about the magical immunities. Cece had always figured that her best bet if any of them were to show up in town would be to count her losses and cut and run. As the two had talked, Cece slowly worked on rubbing the hexes away from the box. It was more exhausting than it looked, a constant string of magic being poured into her fingertips in order to break the seals without cursing herself into oblivion. Whatever those hexes did, Cece didn’t want to find out. “You’ve got yourself a deal. You. Me. Pick another night and get drunk off our asses. You can give me the sparknotes version of your story and I can try to elaborate a bit on mine. It’ll be a good time.” Morgan found something in the book and leaned over to see what she had found. A power source? It didn’t mean much at first, until she remembered that Morgan had mentioned that he was undead. Cece still couldn’t be sure, but suddenly something started to make sense. “Holy shit.” Cece let go of the box for a moment. “You said undead, right? Do you know what kind?” If they didn’t then…. “I think this is a fext. And if I’m right- yikes.” Cece didn’t know how else to describe it. Cece had heard of fext from the coven. To witches, they were a sort of horror story or monster under the bed type. A monster whose special power was stealing the magic from witches. Was there any fate worse than that in the eyes of a coven? “If he is a fext- then I have a feeling that I know what’s in this box too. I think I have all the hexes cancelled out. Now I just have to pop the thing open. Give me a minute.”

“A--a what?” Morgan stammered. She hadn’t thought about fexts in a really long time. Some old witchy wives tales, stories her mother would tell her to scare her into behaving one day and dismiss as folklore the next. It was never anything to devote a lot of headspace to. “Those are--real? They’re like what...witchy-vampires?” She searched Cece’s expression. Her friend looked very serious and certain. “What’s the big yikes? Can he do weird creepy magic things to normal humans? I mean, I know he set her house on fire, but does this mean there’s worse things? Magic things? Wait--” She gaped, mouth dropping as the pieces aligned themselves in her mind. “Is that--does mean there’s just...raw magic in there?” That definitely explained why it was so light for something that was supposed to be important. “Are you sure you want to open that? Is it going to--- do something?”

“Exactly. Or something like that at least.” Cece couldn’t speak with any certainty. She had never seen one for herself. “The coven used to talk about them. Supposedly they can drain magic from spellcasters and then use their magic.” No word on whether the witch lost their magic completely or not, but all the horror stories claimed they did. Could just be a part of the chill factor, though. “Exactly. Chances are that fire was taken from another witch.” Cece nodded her head. Chances were that it was. The problem was, without seeing for themselves they had no idea what kind of magic it was. That wasn’t going to help Morgan’s friend. “I don’t know. Things could go bad. But knowing what kind of magic is stored in here might help your friend.” She couldn’t guarantee it. For all the things that didn’t scare Cece, this one at least made her a by apprehensive. “Moment of truth. Do we open it or not?”

“Shit.” Morgan took the box for herself, looking it over. “Why couldn’t I be a dead witchy vampire?” She grumbled. “I mean, obviously: very spooky. That is some dark, sketchy shit and a hard diet to work with sustainably. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I could work some magic after death. Why do things like this have to happen to assholes who light funeral homes on fire and run underground organ trading rings? That’s just not fair, is all I’m saying.” She examined the markings and little groove the lid depended on. “I’m a little worried about what would happen if we did open it. Hypothetically, I have the least amount of risk of getting whammied by something, but what should I be on the lookout for?”

“You’d make the coolest dead witchy vampire.” Cece agreed, “And you’d definitely use your power for much better than Roy uses his for. What a prick.” Cece didn’t know the man but just from the bits and pieces she had learned she had to say that he didn’t seem like a stellar dude. In fact, he seemed like an ass. “You got the short end of the stick for sure.” It wasn’t surprising that Morgan was offering to open the box and take the brunt of the spell for the two. Morgan was selfless like that. And although Cece was worried about it’s contents, she had a list a bit of confidence that things would mostly be okay. “Well- what the coven explained to me once was that spellcasters and artifacts acted as a sort of conduit to magic. Without it, there’s no where for the magic to go. Using that same logic, it might be that raw magic is just that. If we open it it’s just a mass of magic until someone that can use magic channels it.” The logic wasn’t exact, but based off of what she did know about magic this at least seemed semi plausible. “On the flip side, if this is some sort of summoning spell, it could already be activated and take effect as soon as the box opens. Hypothetically opening it could literally summon a demon. But the chances of it being that are pretty low. Probably.”

“Probably?” Morgan squeaked. “Okay, come on, grab something powerful, we’re doing this outside.” She took the box, held out in front of her and pressed between the tips of her fingers like it was hazardous waste. “I really don’t want to punch a demon or chase one into the woods, but I think our evenings together have taken weirder turns, so--” Morgan opened the back door with her elbow and walked out into the yard. She couldn’t tell if she was overreacting (because who would seriously leave potent magic just in a booby-trapped box? There had to be other layers, right?) or if this was the most reckless thing she’d done yet. “Maybe, uh, stay back--?” She called, looking sidelong at Cece.

Come on. Waiting wasn’t going to change what’s inside. They had to know for sure if they wanted to correctly identify this asshole. One eye pinched shut, Morgan thumbed the lid open.

No flashing lights, no demon. Morgan finally risked a look inside. “Oh. That’s a little anticlimactic.”

“Well I can’t see the future Morgan!” Cece defended herself. She very rarely spoke in absolutes. She couldn’t be blamed or held responsible if shit went south if she told them probably or most likely. “Divination is not one of my skills.” Nor one of her interests. For all of the planning that Cece liked to do- her escape from the coven had taken more than a year to pull together- Cece had no interest in seeing her future. At Morgan’s request, Cece hopped onto her feet and began following her outside, only to spin back around and grab her wine glass and falling behind Morgan again. “You said grab something powerful.” She shrugged, taking a sip and standing with her former roommate out in the backyard. Now it was time to actually open the damned thing.

When Morgan did it was… well it was boring. Morgan was right, that had been anticlimactic. She stepped closer to Morgan and leaned in to get a look at the vial. “Can I squeeze in real quick?” Cece reached her arm in, running her hand over it without actually touching it. Magic was different. In some ways it felt alive or like an aura. And every aura was different. If someone was familiar enough with a certain branch of magic they may be able to pick it out just like someone could look at someone and see what color their aura was. “Well, bad news is that I’m pretty sure this actually was summoning magic. Whoopsies.” Cece sucked air through her teeth and slid away from the box again, “But on the plus side it didn’t summon whatever is in there! So another point for the former roommate dream team!”

Morgan’s stomach turned. There was no consciousness in the box, no traces of who the spellcaster had once been, but after what Roy had done to Erin’s home, she felt pretty confident that they were dead. She knew, on one level, that it was the same as the stock of brains she kept in the fridge. But thinking of his cruelty, the way he crushed people for nothing more original than gain, she felt disgusted. Morgan snapped the box shut and turned back to Cece. “Thank you for this. You’re a really good friend, you know?” She pulled her in a one armed hug. “I’ll make sure this guy get’s destroyed, okay? Do you want to hang onto this, in case you need it someday? I’d rather it be with a real witch than with Roy.” She squeezed her friend carefully. “But definitely, definitely another score in our dream team column. We are, without a doubt, the most badass pair in the Crest. Maybe we should start charging the town for all the favors we do them, huh?”

“I’m supposed to be holding up my tough girl reputation Morgan. Don’t expose me. You know this unbeating heart only flutters now and again for you.” Cece playfully shoved Morgan’s shoulder, careful not to do it hard enough to jolt the vial resting in the overdramatic box. “He sounds like a real dick, so I can’t say I’ll be mourning his loss or anything. But you and your friend need to be careful. If Fexts are even half as scary as the stories are, you don’t want to underestimate this guy. He’s going to be dangerous as hell.” Cece had no idea what kind of nightmare fuel this bottle could summon. Keeping it around probably wasn’t the greatest idea. But if Cece could figure out what it was, she may be able to use it someday. “I will happily take this little container of evil. What could go wrong, am I right?” What an awful question to ask. It’s like she was begging for demons to fuck up her life. Good luck trying to screw up something that was already so royally fucked, demons. “We really do. I’ll brainstorm some business titles. Double bubble, toil trouble? Never mind. We’ll keep workshopping.”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Desperate Gal Pals of White Crest || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece hit a roadblock with their research on an exorcism, so they take a field trip.

CONTAINS: drug manipulation tw (magic poisoning), gun (not fired), 

“I know I literally can’t get tired, but if I see one more book handwave harm exorcisms away with ‘wooo dark magic’ and ‘oooh dangerous! Sacrifice!’ I am going keel over with exhaustion. You’ll have to call Regan for my autopsy and explain to my girlfriend that boredom and no helpful answers is the new hip cause of death.” Morgan flopped down the side of the couch, her head dangling over the edge. “Tell me you’ve got something to banish Puritain Carrie,” she groaned. “I need a win. Literally...any kind of win. A can of seltzer of a win.”

Cece was lying on her back on the ground, book in hand and avoiding reading it by listening to Morgan’s melodramatic self-eulogy. She at least knew how to spice up a story and make it more interesting. She made dying of boredom sound marginally interesting. The irony was not lost on Cece. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on me for the record. How am I supposed to talk at your funeral and make your death sound badass that way?” Cece eventually gave in, shutting the book and tossing it away from her in her own dramatic show of exacerbation. “Nothing. These books have lots about magic and yet a surprisingly lacking amount of ghosts. My coven really should have expanded their horizons a bit.” Cece stated, mostly to herself. She rolled over onto her stomach, finding Morgan’s eyes again and pushing herself up, “We need some new source material. There’s got to be somewhere around town with some decent exorcism knowledge, right?”

“You’ll have to make something up much cooler,” Morgan sighed. “Just don’t promise any of my fae friends to tell the truth about me and you’ll be good.” She looked over at the pile of books around them, new purchases on the diamond card Deirdre had gotten for her, and pulls from the Scribrary. She felt guilty about those the most, sneaking in and using Rio’s resources for something he was bound to hate. “We have to be looking in the wrong place. The wrong key-words, or the wrong sections in the library. You would think ‘most brutal harm exorcism’ would be a short dig, but…” She puffed air through her lips. “Apparently the powers that be think discretion is super ‘in.’ Tell me what you found. Let’s go over it again.”

“No worries there. I don’t like making promises to humans.” Cece laughed, thinking of any ideas she could to spice up Morgan’s imagined death and make it a bit more grandeur. She wondered how she could fit fireworks into the story. Maybe one of the daredevil car jumps through a flaming circle. No, this was all way too distracting when she was supposed to be focusing. She shook the thought away and reached for the notepad that she had used to take any notes that she found vaguely helpful. Emphasis on vague. “Nothing too useful. I found some old history on this former Scribe that studied exorcisms. John something. Sounded like a real bore. I got an autobiography by this Amanda Wallace chick who wrote about her haunted house and how she got rid of it. Not exactly sure how factual that one actually is. Basically, I have nothing but crap. You sure we can’t just call the ghostbusters in for this one?”

Morgan’s brow furrowed at the name Wallace. “Is that name from a comic book movie? It sounds familiar…” She turned herself right side up and crawled to Cece to read over her shoulder. She moved so fast, her focus was groggy, but the illustration on the page she was looking at definitely seemed familiar. “No, wait, that’s...fuck, that was in something I read. Not here but…” Morgan fumbled for her laptop and started digging through her browsing history. She looked sheepishly over at Cece, glad that she couldn’t blush. “...Don’t judge me, okay?” She mumbled. Buried under searches for pirated theory articles, halloween themed lingerie, and Buzzfeed quizzes for Which Character from Grey’s Anatomy Are You, was several rows of local blogs, niche social media groups, old news reports, and PDF access links. Morgan scrolled past them all to get to an access link to an article from the library. There was the same picture, Amanda Wallace and a few others. The caption read, Cromwell was mentored in his early years by the local Ghost Watchers Society. Pictured, left to right… The article was about a man named Ernie Cromwell. He was arrested, several times, for vandalism, arson, and public disturbance. He claimed he needed to in order to make the ghosts go away. He also escalated to a much more deadly life of crime after this, around  the period Roy ought to have been town. That’s why she’d been looking in the first place. “Hey, Cece?” She asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know if any of these people are alive, do you?”

“I hope you know that prefacing with that only makes me want to judge you that much more.” Cece perked up immediately, if she wasn’t interested in studying Morgan’s open tabs before, she was definitely interested now. Fortunately, it was so much better than what Cece had predicted. “Oh my god. This might be more embarrassing than if you just had like straight up porn in your search history. Which for the record, I’m in full support of.” Cece added in, finger gunning and winking in Morgan’s direction. “Please tell me you’re an Izzie too.” Cece tried focusing again once Morgan asked her a question about recognizing anyone. She scanned the page but shrugged after a long moment, “I wish I could be more useful. But most of my magic knowledge was before I got to town. I’ve been about as low key as I can manage since I’ve been to town.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the sex positivity, and so does my girlfriend. And, you know, hopefully she appreciates the spider web themed set I ended up buying. And I’ve taken way too many and no matter what I do, I’m solid 50% Izzie or Meredith. My dark and twisty ways defy simple categories.” She wiggled her brow, mouth curling into a grin, and turned back to the picture. “I swear I’ve seen these faces somewhere. And the names. You don’t remember any from the paper or…” Morgan took out her phone, scrolling furiously. “Oh. Mother of Earth! Oh, this is so weird!” She showed Cece an event page on the UMWC social media page. Two people stood next to a handmade poster advertising GhostWatch Parties. Ostensibly, it was a horror film club. But the names of the two faculty shown were Amanda Wallace and Leigh Cromwell. There was no accounting for coincidence, but it seemed pretty likely that there was a connection to Ernie. “They’re meeting tonight. We have to go, right? Scope things out, set up a time to talk better and see what they can offer, or ask if they have any exorcist finding tips! We’re going, right?”

“Anything for you, as usual.” Cece might not be Deirdre’s biggest fan, but she still wished for a killer sex life for the two. “You know? I can see it, honestly. I support it. Among the characters you could get, I think those are two of the better ones.” Morgan seemed sure that the faces would be familiar, so Cece did her best to study them again, but just ended up shrugging. “You think I read the paper?” She asked the woman curiously. Not a moment later and Morgan was poking the screen and then changing pages to find a social media page. From the college. Cece gasped overdramatically, “Right under your nose this whole time? Also, do you think this horror movie club accepts members that don’t go to the college? Actually never mind that’s not important right now.” Cece jumped up and found her bag, moving towards the coat closet to slip her jacket on. “Well obviously we have to go. What other choice do we have? Plus I need to find out if this club is even worth my time. Which is obviously like a side objective. Priority is the ghost thing for sure. Let’s go!”

The GhostWatchers of White Crest met at Professor Wallace’s ivy covered town house near campus. The gathering was small; only three cars littered the street beyond the driveway. Morgan parked them at the end of the street, positioned to make a quick and easy getaway. The bue-white light of a television illuminated one of the back rooms, bright enough to illuminate parts of the yard as Morgan approached. She knocked on the door gently, but found it already open. Inside was exactly what you would expect from a liberal arts professor. Stacks of papers, catalogues for bamboo kitchenware, and books bursting with post-it’s in every room. Morgan wrinkled her nose at the normalcy of it all. At least she kept a few decorative skull paperweights in the great room and kept the foyer clean.

“How do you think we should play this?” She asked in a whisper, lingering in the front hall, one eye on the back den where the movie, The Innocents, was still going on. “Is it rude if we snoop around first? Should we split up?” Somewhere, she thought, there had to be a private library.

“Wow this place is boring.” Cece yawned as the two slid in through the open door and studied the office that they found themselves in. “You’d think that someone obsessed with exorcisms might have a bit more personality.” She pushed aside a self help book lying on the desk and took a glance at her desk calendar, “She has scheduled times for lunch.” As if that was the most boring thing on the planet.

Either this woman was the worst occultist she had ever seen, or all of her more interesting things were hidden away somewhere. “It’s totally rude, but technically speaking she’s the one that left the door open. She should be more careful about her belongings. So let’s snoop.” Cece wasted no time moving to dig through her other belongings. Given how nonchalant the rest of the room was, Cece wasn’t convinced they were going to find anything too bizarre or helpful just sitting out in the open.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? They hired me because the fun department was empty,” Morgan teased. She watched her feet carefully as she tiptoed onto the plush carpet with her muddy leather oxfords. She hadn’t planned on playing hide and seek in some dusty mini-mansion when she’d left the house, so she was left cringing at every squeak the leather made on the floor and hoping against hope that everyone in the den was too engrossed in the movie to notice.

As luck would have it, the library was one room off from the den. Morgan pointed at it, giving Cece a look of, I don’t know if I got this. One foot, then the other. Could Cece get in there first.

In the den, someone yawned and got up, murmuring about refills. Morgan dropped to the floor, panic in her eyes. Was this the worst idea ever?

The library had to have something useful. If it was just filled with normal literature and more self help books, Cece was going to lose her mind. At least Morgan seemed pretty into the whole espionage thing, tiptoeing around the place and slipping through the door into the library as silently as a mouse. That swiftness and suave attitude seemed to dissipate when movement could be heard from farther in, someone getting up to get a refill. Morgan dropped immediately and Cece remained in the doorway, unsure what the best thing to do in this scenario was. Would the person asking even come this way? Cece crept back a few steps, peaking around to get just a moment’s glance of someone walking towards them. They would definitely see Morgan if something wasn’t done. Would these people be more interested in calling the cops or offing anyone in their way? Cece couldn’t be sure enough, so she figured her only option was to be a distraction of some sort. Back in the office, Cece found a paper weight on the desk and pushed it aside, sliding it off the desk with a loud crack against the floor. That ought to do some distracting.

Morgan heard the paperweight fall before she realized what Cece was doing. Her head whipped around, question marks sprouting all over her face. But whoever was heading her way turned the other direction to see the commotion, and Morgan was able to take her chance. Hopefully Cece wouldn’t be so far behind.

The library was the same as the rest of the house, expected to the point of comical. There were shelves of matching leatherbound British novels, another set of American ones, a whole row of paperbacks and theory that were almost certainly just for posturing, and… who lived like this? Who actually worked here? This was a magazine-style library. Which meant-- “Fuck.” Morgan covered her mouth and flinched. Too loud. Right.

She started peeking behind books, looking for hidden volumes, then the large desk centered at the back of the room. No one really had secret compartment doors, at least not here, the house was too small but-- Morgan kicked back the rug that covered the floor. Cut into the pale hardwood was a heavy door, older and darker, with a black handle that looked to be iron. She peeked her head out, searching for Cece to get her over here, quickly, before anyone realized how reckless they were being in a stranger’s house.

The door was well-oiled and rose silently at Morgan’s tug, and inside-- “Yes!” Beams of light from the other room flashed on. The shadows in the library vanished. It was time to hurry.

Cece ducked behind the desk to avoid whoever was coming towards her. She had successfully distracted the man from discovering Morgan but hadn’t quite thought through the fact that the man would now be coming towards the source of the noise that Cece had caused. Cece began rifling through her purse quickly, pulling a bin of powder free and cupping some into the palm of her hand. Once the footsteps finally became close enough, Cece popped up from behind the counter. “Hi there.”

The man jumped before settling on a confused expression, “Who are you?” He asked, more curious than angry. Probably unsure if Cece was supposed to be there in the first place. “Uh-” Cece began, trying for a long moment to think of an excuse for too long before finally giving up, “I can’t think of a good excuse” She shrugged before pulling her hand up and opening her palm, blowing and sending the powder directly into his face. He stumbled backwards and Cece jumped forward, grabbing onto his shirt and helping direct his fall into the chair by the desk. She patted him softly. Better to get some rest right there.

She slipped across the floor until she found Morgan and then crawled over to her, “For the record I didn’t sign up for this” Cece whispered at her, eyeing the new door that she had discovered. Before hearing more voices. “Welp, after you!”

Morgan’s muscles were already clenched with confusion and unspoken questions. “Sign up for what?” She hissed. “You said we should snoop! Nothing bad has happened, right? And look at all the spooky books down there!” She shined the flashlight on her phone down the ladder, showing tables full of messy, half open books, arcane circles etched on leather, and iron chimes dangling from the ceiling. “Oh, yes, this is the jackpot.”

“Is it now?” A voice called behind them.

Morgan barely suppressed a squeal as Amanda Wallace filled in the doorway. Her straw-white hair seemed to puff up out of sheer rage. “I don’t remember receiving your RSVP, Professor Beck,” she said stiffly. “May I ask what you are doing in my library, opening my trap door?” A smaller, slightly younger head popped up over Amanda’s shoulder and murmured that she’d see the students out. Leigh Cromwell, probably. Guess they weren’t too late for the party after all.

“Hey, Amanda--!” Morgan drew out the words longer, as if a few more syllables in Amanda would help smooth things over, or give her a better idea about what to do next.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Amanda snapped, bristling with a bitter frown. Downstairs, now.” She pointed into the dimly lit trapdoor room, and her look did not suggest that she was entertaining counterarguments at the moment.

“Ummm” Cece considered what may or may not be considered to be bad in Morgan’s mind. And depending on that, whether or not she wanted to share that with Morgan. Putting a man to sleep was hardly that bad, right? She didn’t hurt the man. He would wake up and at worst his memory would be a bit foggy and maybe have some nausea. Nothing that would last more than a week. “Define bad.”

Morgan was right, this was a jackpot. The space was different from the rest of the house. It didn’t look like the end result of an HGTV makeover, for starters. It wasn’t basic or expected. This room was hidden away and it was used. This woman that the two were spying on definitely used this room.

Speaking of the woman they were spying on. Apparently they had been discovered. Cece awkwardly watched  the exchange. Apparently the two were super close work colleagues. “If there was no RSVP, does that mean she wasn’t supposed to bring a plus one?” Cece grinned slightly, completely ignored by the woman and instead following behind Morgan as the two were led away from the space they had just found.

Morgan backed down into the room, feeling, all of a sudden, that she should have told more people where she was going. Of course, she’d told Deirdre they had a lead, but if she were to drop a pin right now, would Deirdre know what to do with it? Remmy might, but the part where she had to explain what she was doing here might not lead to the best of conversations. But, fortunately, there weren’t any high tech keypads standing in their way of getting out. Just one seriously perturbed old woman.

Morgan made her way over to where the stacks of books were the largest and the shelves were packed to bursting. She looked for sigils, icons, anything recognizable. No one ever labeled ‘find harm here,’ but there were unavoidable markers if you knew how to look for them.

“I should report you to the police, for trespassing,” Amanda snapped. “And I could do much worse. But I would like to know first, Professor Beck, what you are doing in my trapdoor of all things. Do you have no respect for others?”

“On the contrary--” Morgan said carefully, flashing Cece big ‘what do we do?’ eyes, “I have the utmost respect for you and your interests.” She backed away until she could back no further. “The interests you keep a secret, especially. I think I might have something that’s of interest to your attention. A ghost something that is, let’s say, too good for mercy.” She reached out for one of the tomes, a leatherbound journal, by the look of it. Not as old as it was pretending to be, and bursting with pasted-in clips and notes.

“Not so fast.” She took out a little pearl handled pistol, gold and shiny, like something out of Agatha Christie. She cocked the safety with a slow, deliberate click. “That’s sensitive material, Professor. Access has to be earned. Tell me the truth, do what I say, and maybe we’ll see about it.”

The two hadn’t found themselves in an ideal situation, Cece was willing to admit that much. The woman that had discovered them hardly seemed especially dangerous. She was a college professor, taller than Cece was but that was hardly an impressive feat. The only thing she looked capable of seriously harming was a student’s grade point average. Still, the woman had enough to hide that she kept it hidden beneath the library, and she really didn’t like the intrusion by her colleague.

Morgan attempted to sweet talk her way out of it. Honestly, Morgan came across as such a pleasant person that Cece probably would have laughed it off if she had found the woman trespassing in her own home. Then again, maybe that didn’t count when Morgan had already previously lived with her. When Morgan reached for a book, hopefully one that Morgan deemed important, Amanda acted with an elevated decree of hostility. Looked like a bingo to Cece. The woman pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at Morgan but still eyeing Cece every now and again. She didn’t show much interest in Cece at all, which may have been more a mistake than anything else. “Your terms and conditions don’t sound all that appealing.” Cece called to her, straightening her back to give herself the appearance of being taller. She wasn’t sure that it worked. “Don’t get me wrong. You have the upper hand here. We’re totally up to no good. But don’t you have a door number three option?”

The woman finally looked Cece over. It had probably been the first time that she had offered her anymore than a passing glance, “I don’t even know who you are. This doesn’t concern you in the slightest.” She turned away from Cece again, but irritation seemed evident. Cece slowly dug into her purse again. She knew she had something else useful in there it was just a matter of rifling around until she found out. Once she did, she popped the lid off and dipped her fingers into it. “I just wanted to give you the option of rethinking your offer. Morgan and I have places to be. Let us go now and we can all enjoy the rest of our nights in peace.”

This time the woman finally turned the gun away from Morgan and towards Cece, at the same time that Cece rose up her hand and grabbed onto the woman’s wrist. “Have you ever heard of curare?” Cece asked the woman, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Though nothing apparent was happening, the woman hadn’t yet pulled the trigger and instead looked silently at Cece. “Some hunting tribes use it to paralyze prey. Normally, it doesn’t have a lot of effect on humans if ingested orally or through the skin.” By the woman’s expression, it was clear the effects had started to take effect now, “But with a bit of alchemy, it can be altered. All of a sudden, it just takes a tiny bit rubbed against the skin to get into the blood system. As Amanda began to fall back, Cece grabbed onto the gun, letting it slip from the woman’s hands as she crashed against the ground. “You should be able to talk still, it might just be a little mumbled. So try to speak up.”

Cece set the gun against the shelf and crossed her arms, “You got any questions for her?” she asked Morgan. Cece wasn’t sure this counted as life or death exactly, but the gun hadn’t been entirely promising. At this rate, Cece knew that she’d have to do something at the end to make sure that Amanda didn’t hold an unfriendly grudge against the two of them. Cece had gone this long, but now in the span of just a few weeks she would be whipping out the memory spell twice. Yikes. “Spare no details, something tells me that Amanda’s memory of the night might end up a bit fuzzy anyways.”

Morgan was scurrying for Cece and wishing zombies had super speed when it happened. She couldn’t let Cece get hurt and didn’t Cece know she was basically bullet-proof? Not one more friend, not one more life she cared about was going down because of-- and then Amanda’s face was going slack and she was sinking to the floor, and Cece was giving a pretty impressive speech of her own. “Holy shit,” Morgan whispered, suddenly feeling a little woozy with shock. Then, as it settled, “You...are so amazing, Cece!” She ran over and gave her a hug, ecstatic with relief. “Okay, so, one of your proteges was arrested for what sounded like some serious supernatural damage, and he said he had to get the ghosts. So I’m thinking you know a lot about exorcisms, maybe harm exorcisms, specifically?”

Amanda made some unintelligible noises that sounded aggravated enough to mean ‘yes’ to Morgan.

“Great! So, where would I find those? Is it here? Or--here? Or--” At the sound more throaty, aggravated groaning, Morgan knew she was right on the money. She hauled out everything from the self she could carry and started looking. “Woah, Nelly, some of these pages are torn from other volumes.” Morgan peered over the desk at Amanda on the floor. “Have you been defacing historical archives? That’s not very polite, you know. I wonder what would happen if I reported some of these original books as damaged and gave your name? That might be a bummer for research funding and future archive access, right?” Satisfied with her fun, she started flipping through, grateful that even though Amanda was a thief, she was at least an organized one. There was a handy table of contents and index between each hodge podge volume, and by some topics there was a reference number that seemed to correspond to a file, probably in the cabinet at the other end of the room.

Amanda made another slurry attempt at speech.

Morgan’s face crinkled. “French Revolution? Did you hear French Revolution?” She gave Cece a look to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood and started checking dates throughout her haul. Sure enough, there was a hefty volume with some emphasis on the 18th century and quite a few notes in French and English as she started flipping through. “Cece, come look at this,” she said. “I think this… I think I found something! What do these ingredients look like to you?”

If Cece had any worries that Morgan might think she had taken things too far, those fears were immediately quelled when Morgan launched into a hug. Cece hugged back, keeping her finger away from any of Morgan’s skin, “I don’t think this would work on zombies, but better not take the chance.” Considering the rest of the abilities that Morgan had now that she was undead, Cece wasn’t convinced it would have paralyzed her the way it had Amanda. If it did, the fast healing probably would have fixed her pretty quickly. But better to avoid the situation regardless. “But that was nothing. Didn’t want her messing up one of our pretty faces.”

Morgan was far better at searching and researching than Cece was. The extent of Cece’s reading had gone into her plans to get away from the coven. Since then, the books she had stolen and brought with her mostly stayed hidden in the floorboards of her closet. Something for a rainy day, if it ever came. For the most part, Cece scanned the shelves as Morgan actually talked to the woman and searched for something that was useful to her.

Cece hadn’t heard French Revolution at first, but hearing Morgan question it made Cece laugh and clap for Morgan’s better hearing skills, “You know I thought I heard bitch contusion but that makes way more sense.” Morgan flipped through a volume and called Cece over to look at something, but the symbols on the page weren’t like anything Cece had worked with before. “Yikes.” Cece started, trying to look for smaller details and anything that did look familiar, “I can pick out a few things. I see some containment symbols. Probably used to keep something trapped. But nothing that I’ve worked with before.”

“Me either,” Morgan admitted, “But that--” she pointed to the word, “Is definitely French for spirit, and some of these ingredients look like they’re obeying sympathetic principles for inflicting pain. I’m gonna need a dictionary or three to figure some of this out, and you know, an expert, but you saw the containment sigil too, right!” She snapped the book shut and held it close to her chest, her eyes shining with relief. “I think this is it, Cece. I think this is--” Morgan was lost for words and only smiled, glowing with gratitude for her friend. “This is the key to everything I’ve been looking for.”

“Well I know a guy if you need a French interpreter.” Cece stated nonchalantly, “Can’t promise he won’t be grumpy about it though.” Cece couldn’t keep an easy grasp on who in town knew who, but it seemed like a safe bet that Morgan and Kaden were acquainted. “Fuck yeah! Former roomies strike again!” Cece called out triumphantly, raising her hand for a high five. Once the two were done celebrating, Cece remembered that they had company. Cece spun around to their host for the night and clapped her hands together, “Amanda. You’ve just been so welcoming tonight, truly. We had a great time. We’re going to wrap up and then I promise it’ll be like we were never even here.” Cece scooted towards her and knelt down towards the woman. “Are we done here Morgan?”

Morgan joined Cece beside her colleague, still light on her feet with victory and beaming with pride in her friend. “We do make pretty good partners in crime if I say so myself,” she said. “And, you know, aside from, hmm---” She reached back over to the desk and took a couple more books. “These. Just for good measure. And fun. Trespassing is rude, Professor Wallace, but pulling guns on your colleagues is far worse.” She nodded at Cece to work her magic. They’d gotten what they came for and then some.

“This probably won’t hurt,” Cece began, pressing her fingers against Amanda’s temple, “Or if it does you won’t remember it. Which is basically the same thing.” Amanda’s eyes were frantic at first, darting back and forth almost definitely trying to will her body to move. But soon they settled, floating shut as Cece dove into her memories to pluck them free. She figured the last half hour or so would do the trick. The woman would be left with a lot of blurry portions on the night, undoubtedly waking up in this room to wonder how she had gotten here. But those were hardly Cece’s concerns. She made sure to go back far enough to when Amanda started suspecting someone was here. Once Cece was done, she left Amanda on the floor and stood up, “She should be waking up soon. She should be able to move shortly after. If you have what we need, we should get out of here.” Cece suggested, heading towards the exit of the room before snapping and swinging back towards her, “Actually, now is probably the best time to mention that there may be another person that conveniently fell asleep in the office. We may want to stop by on our way out and wipe him too. Just to be safe.”

Morgan stopped halfway on the stairs they came down in just to gape at Cece in awe. “Remind me to never underestimate you for the rest of your days. And maybe bring you up on my list of people to call next time I need help with the forces of darkness. You’re a dangerous lady, Cece Bishop…” She gave Cece a chivalrous hand out of the cellar, grinning in the evening light. “But, then again, so am I sometimes.”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

O, the Iron-y || Morgan & Cece

Timing: Last Night

Parties: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

Summary: Witchy roommates unite when Morgan needs help identifying what, exactly, happened to the body she found with Kaden. 

Contains: discussions of violence

“You know, someday when people aren’t getting murdered right and left, or at least when I’m not coping with so much trauma, we really need to get back to our trashy TV nights,” Morgan sighed from her spot on the floor. It had been a long time since she’d played corpse on the floor with herself, but the sight of that body had really done a number on her. Sure, she’d killed, but not like this. Not for pleasure or power or trophies or...whatever the hell was behind this. Morgan couldn’t imagine anything awful enough to just push someone into becoming so cruel. To treat supernaturals like bloody litter on the side of the street. “You could come to my place, if you wanted. The TV is so huge, you could practically see every pore on the bachelorette’s face.” She sighed again. Her enthusiasm wasn’t quite there even if she meant every word. She craned her head back to see the little witch at work. “I hope it’s a given, but thank you again, for doing this for me. How’s it going with those samples I gave you?”

Cece was leaning against the counter, staring down at Morgan and glancing every so often at her computer. From what Cece knew about the body, this didn’t seem like anything normal. Testing for normal drugs in the system could prove to be a complete waste of time. But even magic was rooted in some science. Sometimes over the counter drugs were used to create some of the most powerful spells. It all depended on the imagination, and the stamina. Finding out what she could about the body from a logical, scientific perspective could influence her findings. “That sounds amazing. The only thing that could make that show funnier is by focusing on every imperfection they have. Plus, I’ll feel like a Kardashian watching it from a rich person tv.” She tossed a glance back to the screen. Still loading in the results. “I should be thanking you. You gave me something to do on an otherwise boring night.” She also ended up back at work, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I’m running some normal tests first. Trying to see if anything sticks out. It can help me try to determine the clearly supernatural shit that went down. What can you tell me about the body?”

“Figuring age is hard with fae, I think, but she was an undergrad at the university. Maybe nineteen or twenty. Um, you’ve actually got...pretty much all that’s left of her. I found her with a friend just...abandoned. I’m assuming some warden is taking trophies, or...fuck, I don’t know. Having fun. Taking out some human supremacist bullshit on…” Morgan grimaced and forced herself to breathe slowly. Three months dead, almost, and it was still the first thing she wanted to do. Just breathe. Just bring the world back into the right rhythm, the right meter. “I mean, of all the ways you could possibly hurt a fae--” She shook her head, shuddering. “It was like an acid attack, only it must have been iron, right? Those are the weird, stiff pieces on the body, right? I mean, those burns, they’re everywhere. How much time did they spend planning this?” But there’s gotta be...I don’t know, some kind of underground Hunters R’ Us out there, right? Some signature that can be traced back to something specific, right? Or at least, I don’t know, if we know how, maybe someone can be like, oh yeah, my buddy goes around flinging iron at kids with wings. Great guy, why’re you mad?” She breathed again, realizing she was getting worked up again. She wasn’t going to help anyone like that, least of all whoever the body had been.

“ All that’s left of them.” It hadn’t been a question so much as a disappointed statement. Cece was concerned by what had been left of the victim. Cece had limited knowledge of Fae, but she knew enough to know that cold iron wasn’t their friend. For this girl, it looked like whoever did this really hadn’t like her. But Cece knew enough about the world to know that may not necessarily be true. Some people hunted them from some sense of duty, or for sport. People didn’t need a motive to be sick fucks. At least have the decency to make it quick. “Yeah, looks like iron burns,” Cece nodded, “They could have drugged her first. Made her easier to capture. I should know in a couple minutes.” Morgan was getting worked up over the murder. As far as Cece knew, this had just been a body Morgan stumbled across. But that seemed to be how Morgan operated. She cared a lot for everyone. “It’s hard to tell, honestly. A lot of the hunters I’ve known follow a code, but there are just as many that do it for fun. But I know there are hunters in town. From the looks of it, they were responsible for this. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to narrow it down based on some tox screen results.” She didn’t have any better answers or anything to offer Morgan at the moment besides her smile and the knowledge that she would help Morgan with whatever her next steps were. Cases like these were hard to explain and even harder to solve. Normally, justice may go unsolved. Cece didn’t have much to say in the way of justice, but she did know she could help a friend out. “And what do we do? If we found out who did it?”

Morgan grimaced and held her stomach tighter. “I’ll never understand that. I’ve done some shitty and questionable things, but this...it was slow and awful. They wanted her to suffer.” At least when she killed it hadn’t been torture. That counted for something; that was different. “We...I don’t know. Find out why. Make them answer to...someone, for what they did. Maybe she had family, or maybe...I don’t know. But I am so tired of supernaturals getting hurt and killed and forgotten. It’s bullshit. We’re people just as much as anyone else, but we’re the ones collared and thrown into cages or hunted like pests or living like who we are is something to be ashamed of or tortured and thrown where-the-hell-ever. How are we supposed to live like this, with humans, hunters, getting to hurt us for free whenever they want? Someone has to pay and I’m just...I’m tired of it. Don’t you ever get tired of hiding, Cece? I’d give up my body regrowing to have enough magic to make whoever did this pay.”

For what it was worth, Cece agreed with Morgan. As far as magic went, Cece had lived a pretty open life. The coven kept itself secret for sure, but she still was able to learn and grow with other magic users by her side. Things turned dark and for the worst, sure but at least she wasn’t hunted for it. This girl, this body was fucked. She had been targeted, hunted and tortured before they let her die. “Before we fall down that rabbit hole, you should figure out exactly what you want them to answer to. For people like them, justice isn’t clear cut. There’s no proving something like this in court. So, make sure we know exactly what we’re getting into before we decide what should be done with them.” How else did Cece lay this out to her? If Morgan wanted them eradicated from the planet, Cece was there. She had seen too many bodies like this. Leftovers from the coven, hell even herself. “It’s exhausting. Lucky for us, I’ve still got the magic for both of us.” Something flashed across her screen and she turned to look at it. “I can’t find any logical explanation as to what caused the metal to melt into her skin like that. But I’m pretty damn sure I have a theory.” Cece sighed, wishing that it had been something simple. “Can you go into my bag? Front pocket. There’s a container with a power that looks like soot. Grab that for me and sprinkle it onto the pieces of metal. I want to test something.”

Morgan knew what she wanted, if she could only admit  it out loud. She wanted the hunter who did this to suffer as much as their prey had. She wanted them to fear for their lives, for their humanity, to feel the panic and indignity that she’d felt that day in the woods. She wanted them to die. A life for a life, that was the math of alchemy. And maybe she didn’t have the magic in her anymore, but she could still work her will on the world if she tried hard enough. Morgan reached for her snack pyrex and took out a chunk of muscle (deer thigh, if she remembered correctly) and started to chew slowly as she did as Cece asked. It wasn’t so bad this time now that she knew what to expect, or now that she had packed enough for a whole other meal with her. She unscrewed the lid and ran her fingers through the substance. It was so fine, it barely felt like anything, but there was a familiar sheen to it, some familiar flecks she remembered being quizzed on by her mother. It was used to detect and identify magic in a number of spells. Morgan’s brow furrowed. “You sure about this?” She asked. But Cece seemed sure enough, so, bracing herself, she sprinkled the powder over Coraline Adams’ body. The dust settled and, as her mother had trained her to memorize, a dark indigo smoke began to rise from the body.

“No,” Morgan said, backing away. “No, that’s...shit…” dust spilled from the tin and down her leg. She set it down clumsily before she spilled any more. “A witch did this?”

It hadn’t been Cece’s favorite theory. She had been keeping hope out for some type of explanation. Evidence of extreme heat, iron pills being found in the girl’s system. Something that still felt human, despite how monstrous the crime was. But the thought had been there in the back of her mind. The unexplainable could usually be explained through magic. Had her theory that a witch had been involved been at the back of Cece’s mind this whole time? Sure. She had still had her fingers crossed for the hunter theory. It was better than this alternative. More than the fact itself, Morgan’s reaction to it was what had made Cece so unhappy. She had needed to believe it was a hunter it seemed. It was hard to accept that what was once your own kind could be capable of this evil. Cece had seen it before, taken part in it. That didn’t mean she liked seeing it affect Morgan. “And worse than that, an alchemist.” Cece specified, creeping down to get a better look at the wounds. No doubt about it, the very field that Cece and Morgan had specialized in had caused this. The metal had been almost fused with the skin itself, probably while the girl had been alive. From what Cece knew about Fae and iron, the pain that would have caused would be immeasurable. It was cruel, inhumane. “At the very least, a witch was involved. Whether it was still because of hunter’s or not I can’t be sure. But we’re definitely looking for an alchemist in town. And someone with enough experience with human anatomy to know how to do this.”

“Alchemy,” Morgan repeated slowly. “They used…alchemy.” The iron hadn’t come from a stick. They hadn’t been beaten or pressed against something. The alchemist had turned the fae’s body into iron. The burns on Coraline’s face had come from a touch. “The components of the human body aren’t that complicated,” she murmured. “If you’re just trying to hurt, you don’t even need to do it well. You could just ramp up the hydrogen and nitrogen and start a combustion, or you could simulate the state of hypothermia in a few seconds, you could fill the bloodstream with sand or wear down the elasticity so it falls off, and it’s messy but if you’re just trying to kill someone or hurt them long enough to get away, it’s comparably minimal energy, but to do this...to force a body to do something like this takes practice. I mean, do you know how to do this?” She looked at Cece, completely abashed. “It’s a fucking alchemist,” she whispered again, covering her eyes and walking away from the body before she gave into the pull. “I hate this. I hate this so much. I--fuck. Thank you, Cece. I wouldn’t have guessed this, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I...I don’t know. You don’t talk to any witches in town, right?”

Morgan knew the specifics. Knew how dark their own line of magic could be. How fucked up their abilities were given a bit of anger and a rush of power. Cece studied Morgan’s anger, wondering why she herself couldn’t feel that same outrage. Had the coven desensitized her to things this much? That the closest Cece could feel for contempt was because Morgan was angry? Not for the actual body of the murdered woman that sat near them? Regardless, Morgan was angry enough for the both of them and Cece wanted to do something about that. “I could. If I wanted to.” Cece admitted. Because Morgan wasn’t wrong. This would be easy enough to do with some focus, and easy to fuck up if someone was angry enough. Passion was always a wild factor in magic. It altered it, spread lines thin and made spells harder to control. But this… “These marks are controlled. You can tell that whoever was doing this was being careful. Taking their time. It’s real fucked. And not in a good way.” Morgan questioned whether or not Cece knew any other witches. She did, but not like this. “Not any that could do this.” She didn’t know any that specialized in alchemy, and she didn’t know any that would murder someone this horrifically.

Morgan hadn’t really expected Cece to have the answer fresh out of the ether, but it would have been wonderfully easy. They could just march up to whoever’s door right then and there, demand an explanation, demand something. Sure, all witches didn’t get along, that was obvious. Some were awful. But knowing it was an alchemist shook her in a different way. Of all the things this alchemist could make, everything they could do with their magic, and they chose to destroy a fae like this. A kid. What reason could be good enough for this? What cause, what fucking spell could justify something like this. “If you, um...if you can wrap her up for me, I can take her back to my friend’s place. Figure out if there’s anyone in town who can, I don’t know, bury her or something, I guess. I...thank you, Cece, really. If you get in trouble for this I...I don’t know. I do wanna make this up to you, okay? Soon as I figure this out…”

It wasn’t hard to tell that Morgan was shaken by all of this. She had been acting strangely since she reached out to Cece, and things only got worse and worse the more they found out about it. Whatever this was, whoever did this. They needed to be stopped. That was Cece’s role now, right? Through a thick coating of irony that wasn’t long on her, she was now helping the police catch murderers and stop crimes. So this, although outside of the system and breaking so many policies that Regan’s head would pop clean off if she had been working here, was the right thing to do, right? “I got this. Seriously. Don’t worry about me. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Cece finger-gunned at Morgan, throwing in a dramatic “Yeehaw” for the dramatic effect. Someday the two could talk more about Cece’s time in the coven. Right now, considering the situation, that time didn’t seem right. “I can’t say that I know much about Fae, but I know a lot of them have their own traditions. I’d recommend reaching out to anyone you know that may be able to help out. Give her the burial she deserves and what not.” Morgan sounded like her brain was running a mile a minute, thinking too far beyond their current conversation. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll think of something you can do to make it up to me, got it? Now off you go, you’ve got an alchemist to find.”