Witch Hunt

by L R Deney

  “So, what do you need help with?” Staci asked, leaning forward with an arm on the table, legs comfortably crossed.

  “It has to do with a friend of mine,” Melanie explained, looking firmly into the pale woman’s strange, green eyes. “She’s gone missing. No one knows where she is, her roommate hasn’t seen her in days and the police aren’t drawing up any leads. Last anyone saw of her was her brief visit of a 7-Eleven where she bought herself a coffee and a sandwich for lunch. Then she just dropped off the face of the Earth.”

  Stroking her chin for a moment, Staci asked another question. “Did you bring any personal belongings of hers?”

  Blinking, Melanie shook her head. “Sorry, no. Should I have?”

  “It would have helped, but it’s not something I can’t do later. So, don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay, I guess I can lead you to her place later sometime, do whatever you need to do,” Melanie said with a nervous shrug.

  Staci nodded. “Is there else anything you can provide me that would help unravel this riddle. As you have correctly determined, I have means that I can use that can help you relocate your friend.”

  Melanie leaned back in her seat, contemplating the question. “Oh right, there’s a bizarre piece of graffiti on the side of the 7-Eleven where she disappeared. No one seems to know what it is, but it looks like a wheel or something.”

  Staci’s brows arched. “A wheel? Do you have a picture of it or can you reproduce it for me?”

  “I don’t have a picture, but I could try to draw it.”

  Nodding, Staci looked to Darcy. Without wasting a moment, Darcy hurried to get a pencil and paper for the young woman. Melanie accepted the items and began to sketch the graffiti as best she could from memory. As it slowly took shape, Staci began to frown deeply and her eyes quickly narrowed at the finished product.

  It was a circle inside a circle, and the inner circle appeared to have spokes emanating from a center point. Outside the inner circle, the “spokes” continued but began to form curious lightning bolt zig-zags. A look of fury on her face was obvious.

  “You recognize it.”

  “I do indeed, and it’s not a wheel, that’s for certain. I don’t mean to be impolite, but what ethnicity is your friend?”

  “One of the reasons everyone’s freaking out, because of recent events. She’s black, though not mixed like I am. The police swear that none of their officers have shot black women anytime recently. Well, it is Seattle, so likely none of them are lying about that like they probably would in another state….”

  Staci nodded, still frowning at the symbol Melanie drew. “Is your friend trans?” Staci asked.

  “No, though she is a lesbian.”

  “So, she’s probably still alive….”

  Both Melanie and Darcy grimaced, realizing the concern that she had just dismissed. Too many trans women of color had been murdered in the United States over the years. Far too many. If Melanie’s friend had been abducted, she’s probably been sexually assaulted but the chances of her being murdered for being trans were nonexistent. That didn’t guarantee that she wasn’t murdered for another reason though. Still, it was a potential hope of her still being alive to cling on to. But there was something about Staci’s anger toward the symbol Melanie had reproduced.

  “But there’s something else wrong,” Melanie stated. “I can read it on your face.”

  Staci nodded grimly. “This symbol is… not good. Let me state that while she might not be dead for being LGBT, she might be dead because she’s a person of color. We can’t rule it out, but I do hope for her sake and that of her loved ones that we do find her alive. I don’t like seeing these kinds of symbols crop up, especially in a time as… troubling as now.”

  Looking between her and the symbol, tears began to form in Melanie’s eyes. “What is it? What is the symbol? How bad is it?”

  Staci looked at Melanie and frowned. “I’ll tell you later, as I don’t want to agitate you any further than you need to be. I’m not going to lie though, it already doesn’t look good.”

  “It’s some kind of white supremacist symbol isn’t it?”

  Staci was silent but gave a soft nod. Melanie let out a sob, placing her face into her hands as she started crying. Darcy reached over to place her arms around the young woman, comforting her in this moment of worry and dread. Several moments passed like that before Staci finally spoke up again.

  “Why don’t you show Melanie to one of the guest rooms, comfort her any way you need to? I need to contemplate our new situation over her missing friend. Things have just turned for the worse as this… thing has showed up.” She gestured to the symbol on the piece of paper.

  “Of course, Staci, I’ll make her as comfortable as I can,” Darcy replied before standing up and helping the crying Melanie do the same before leading her out of the library down one of the halls.

  Staci sat there alone and contemplated the symbol further. The Black Sun.

  It wasn’t an outright swastika, but it might as well have been. She’d have to bring this to the attention of the Council of Magic, as the presence of the Orden der Schwarzen Sonne in America had to be considered a reality when one looked at the current political climate. Was Melanie’s friend dead? She didn’t know, and Staci hoped she wasn’t. But it was growing more apparent by the day that the forces of evil were gathering their power. The Council had to listen to her.

  If they wouldn’t, refusing to get involved in “mundane politics” as they so often dismissively stated to her in the past, there were other forces she could try to appeal to. The men and women behind this abduction—and it most certainly looked like an abduction—had to be stopped at all costs.

  Who knew she’d wind up facing off against actual, literal Nazis?

  Chapter 2

  She was lost in darkness. Her captors saw fit to ensure that she didn’t see much of anything. She tested her restraints again, but there was no luck in that exercise, the ropes held firm and she just served to chafe her skin against them. Kimberly swore under her breath, the burning rash feeding into her misery and terror.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been here, the hours stretched away into eternity. Every now and then some dickwad would bring her food and water while uttering racially charged slurs at her. Sometimes they’d jab her with a Taser if she seemed to be getting too close to someone or the door. Then there were other times they just seemed to do it for fun.

  It was a terrifying existence.

  All she could really do was think back on how she wound up here. She’d stopped at a 7-Eleven on her way to downtown to pick up a light lunch. She was going to spend her day walking around, maybe do a little bit of window shopping, possibly spend some time in Pike’s Place Market—just generally enjoy herself. Then she was out of the store and on her way to catch a bus when someone grabbed her from behind. She’d tried to struggle, but someone said something in a foreign language—sounded like it might have been German—and she went out suddenly like a light.

  Then she had found herself here in this dreadful prison with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. If there had been a purpose to all of this, she could guess that it had to be racially motivated. Her captors didn’t leave much mystery to the fact that they were white supremacists based on their behavior and the things they called her. Why they kept her alive, she didn’t know, but she didn’t think she’d like the reason once she found out.

  At the very least, remaining alive meant she had a chance of being rescued in that condition. Surely her friends and family must be wondering where she was. She only hoped that they’d be able to find her. She had to hold onto that hope, for her to maintain her sanity.

  She started crying again.

  Chapter 3

  Staci grimaced at the Schwarze Sonne on the side of the 7-Eleven. It wasn’t even painted on like she had been under the impression of, but had in fact been burned into the brick. The impression was little over half an inch deep. She did not env
y the people charged with removing it, but it did reveal one fact about the kidnappers—they were not your average, run-of-the-mill Neo-Nazis. It required power to craft a symbol this size (it was about 5 feet in diameter) so perfectly into a brick wall.

  That fact made her spirits sink; this was definitely the work of skilled magicians. And these magicians held onto beliefs that were too abhorrent to contemplate. Their motives wouldn’t be hard to contemplate, bringing about a new “thousand-year reich” where their so-called “master race” was dominant. And they’d achieve it through a mass ritual sacrifice of their “lessers.” Just as they had attempted so long ago….

  “Looks pretty ominous, doesn’t it?” Melanie commented to her left.

  Staci softly nodded, the only one present who knew just how ominous it was. “And you say no one appears to have witnessed the kidnapping?”

  “Yeah, the cops said they interviewed the whole area but apparently have no leads to go on. That was in this morning’s paper.”

  “And they likely will not have one anytime soon,” Staci considered, then looked to her friend. “It was very wise of you to contact me; this is not the usual brand of villainy that the police have to contend with each day.”

  Melanie peered at the Schwarze Sonne with a bit of astonishment. “You’re telling me. You’d think someone would have seen someone burn this into the wall. But nope.”

  “That’s because the kidnappers needed just a short second to put it there.” Melanie stared at her in disbelief. “They didn’t use any conventional tools to do it, they used magic.”

  “So, the cops…”

  “Would be hard-paced to even find a suspect. We’re dealing with an incredibly ruthless and efficient order of dark sorcerers.”

  “Like the Death Eaters?”

  Staci stared at her, confused. “The what?”

  Melanie looked at her with shock. “You’ve never read Harry Potter?”

  “Why would I need to? I live the real thing every day.”

  Melanie chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair.”

  They looked back to the symbol of hatred stamped into the wall, all humor disappearing from their minds. White supremacists were already on the level of all sorts of fucked up. But white supremacist wizards? That was something that was truly vile to contemplate, yet they had been around for decades, possibly biding their time since the fall of Nazi Germany. It made her feel sick to her stomach.

  Growing curious, she stepped closer and waved her hand before the engraved symbol, muttering the arcane words that would pull back the veil of time. She heard Melanie let out a gasp as a transparent, tall man with a clean-shaven head and a black, finely tailored suit walked up to the wall and raised his hands, speaking words similar to Staci’s own incantations, before flames sprang forth from his fingertips, dancing about in detailed patterns. Staci took the time to study this fellow, because he was sure to be one of the kidnappers.

  Shaking her head with disgust, having seen enough of this man, whoever he was, burn a racist symbol into the side of a 7-Eleven, she dismissed the image with a wave of her hand. She turned toward Melanie who was presently staring at her with an expression of awe. Cars continued to buzz back and forth on the road, oblivious to what temporal wonder Staci had performed.

  “That was absolutely amazeballs!” Melanie declared. “Now we know what he looks like!”

  “One of them, anyhow,” Staci replied as she stroked her chin thoughtfully. “The Order of the Black Sun doesn’t exist in a single person. But it’s a lead, and the only one we have at the moment.”

  “So what’s next?” Melanie asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “Next? Next you take me to Kimberly’s apartment,” Staci replied before flashing her a smile, then glanced back at the 7-Eleven. “But first, since we’re here, I’m going to grab myself a Slurpee!” Then she sauntered toward the entrance.

  “That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” Melanie commented to herself. “Hey! Wait up!” she cried before running after the pale Goth woman.

  ◆◆◆

  About half an hour later, they were standing outside the front door of Kimberly’s apartment, waiting for her roommate, Judith, to answer. It was a nice, quiet place in north Seattle, close to a rather enchanting shop full of gargoyles that momentarily distracted Staci and required Melanie to remind her of the task at hand. Nevertheless, the witch had filed away the shop’s location in her mind for later perusal.

  Eventually the door opened and the woman who answered it looked back and forth between them. She flashed a smile as she appeared to recognize Melanie, but her expression turned questioning when she caught sight of the pale, black clad Staci Drenvauder. Staci simply raised her hand and waggled her fingers.

  “My Lord in Heaven, you’re as white as a ghost!” the woman who was presumably Judith exclaimed. “Melanie, always a pleasure. Who’s your friend here?”

  Staci simply smirked as Melanie answered. “Judith, this is Staci; she’s here to help find Kimberly.”

  Judith sized her up curiously. “She doesn’t look like a cop.”

  Staci chuckled softly. “Trust me dear, I would never consider law enforcement as a career option in a million years. Just consider me as an… ‘independent contractor.’ ”

  “You mean like a PI?”

  Staci shrugged, black-painted lips smiling wide. “Something like that.”

  “So what do you need from me?”

  “Actually just a look around her room, you wouldn’t believe what kinds of clues turn up in a person’s belongings,” Staci replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

  Judith arched her brow. “You mean like her diary.”

  Staci smirked and signaled guns with her hands. “Sharp! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Diary, day planner, calendar, anything that can give me an idea of what was going on in her life recently.”

  Judith shifted her gaze questioningly to Melanie and she just nodded. Shrugging, Judith opened the door all the way and gestured the two women to come in. After stepping through the threshold, Staci glanced around the living room, taking note of the various African decorations intermingled with Judeo-Christian symbology. It had her art appraisal skills working on overdrive, but barely a few items looked like they passed the hundred dollar mark. The furniture and electronics on the other hand were pretty standard to most homes.

  “Kimberly’s room is the one on the right of the bathroom,” Judith called out to them from behind.

  Staci led the way to the room as directed. It looked like a pretty standard bedroom with a full bed, a dresser, a few corner tables, portraits of family, posters of R&B performers, nothing too unexpected. Her eerie, green eyes scanned the room, looking for something suitable to work the magic that she had planned for this investigation. Then she found it.

  There was a brush sitting on top of the dresser that contained several hairs tangled within its bristles. Quickly she grabbed it and scrutinized it thoughtfully before plucking one of the hairs free. Placing the brush back down, Staci held the hair up high over her head while Melanie quietly observed at her side.

  Once again Melanie would bear witness to the arcane language that Staci spoke. The language was as old as time itself, perhaps even older if some of what Staci had read herself was true. Whatever the case, the arcane language was the language of creation. It molded and shaped the world to the speaker’s will, allowing them control of anything they could imagine.

  The hair between her fingers began to glow and she instinctively released it. To Melanie’s astonishment, the hair didn’t fall to the floor, but instead rose higher in the air until it almost touched the ceiling. There it hovered, slowly rotating until the glow became blinding.

  Staci was granted her vision.

  ◆◆◆

  Fire.

  Boiling water.

  The sound of a thousand marching boots.

  Then the Schwarze Sonne, seeming like some bottomless hole at its core, rose over it all and dominated her
perception. It grew larger, more powerful, more all-encompassing as it tried to consume her. Consume her soul. Tried to draw her in into its eternal darkness. Staci struggled against it while voices chanted “sieg heil, sieg heil, sieg heil!” She wanted to scream.

  Fought against it.

  Struggled.

  BAM!

  ◆◆◆

  Staci groaned, coming to with her back against a wall, legs sprawled on the carpet, and Melanie hovering over her, patting her rapidly on the cheek. Blinking, the witch looked around and found herself in a bedroom that she felt like she had last seen a vast eternity ago. Magic could sometimes distort the senses and the flow of time like that.

  “Are you all right?” Melanie asked with concern.

  “Fuck!”

  Melanie blinked. “Right now? Here?”

  Staci shook her head. “No, I mean that didn’t go well.”

  “What happened? After that hair started glowing and floating, you just kind of stared at it as you spoke in that weird language of yours until it apparently ‘exploded’ or something and sent you flying backward into the wall.”

  Before Staci could answer, Judith’s voice came from the direction of the bedroom doorway. “Everything all right in here? I thought I heard a noise.” Then apparently her eyes fell on Staci. “Oh my lord, what happened to you?”

  Staci turned her head to look past Melanie, seeing Judith standing there with wide-eyed concern. Shrugging, smirking a little through her grimace, Staci held up her hands, palms upward, to acknowledge her awkward situation.

  “I think I tripped on something,” she said with a small laugh.

  Judith looked down at the very clean and spotless floor. “Uh-huh.” Then she turned and walked away.

  “Well that was embarrassing,” Staci remarked as Melanie helped her back to her feet.

  “So what happened?”

  “Failure. The kidnappers have placed a ward around wherever they’re keeping your friend. I won’t be able to track her through any mystical means.”