The plot...what there is of it...thickens! That and more violence. And sex.


Gretel cried out as he hit her again. She couldn't fall though, the men holding her wouldn't let her. They only pulled her upright again, ignoring the fact she could barely stand, as he hit her again.

She spat out a sticky glob of blood. God, felt like her mouth was swimming in it. She tried to swallow, but the sickly mess stuck in her throat.

Berringer circled her, leering, gloating. He leaned close, his face twisted and angry and covered in blood from where she'd tried to bite his broken nose right off. She glared back, and for her trouble, he clouted her across the face again with the back of his hand.

One of the men holding her took the trouble to elbow her in the side and she felt the breath rush out of her. She retched a mouthful of blood up, struggling for air.

Gretel looked up, with difficulty, hanging limp in the men's arms. Berringer laughed. His men sneered.

Gretel was afraid.

The sherriff's hand was suddenly clamped around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. Crushing her. She fought for breath, rasped, snarled, struggled. Her coat was torn off and arms pulled at her outer-corset.

It seemed as if he was on top of her now. His men were gone, or elsewhere, laughing. Berringer struggled with the belt of his trousers and pinned her down, while still crushing her neck in his hands.

She couldn't breathe. But her right arm was free, now.

"Hansel." She gasped. "Han-"

"-sel!" Gretel drove her fist into her attacker's stomach, then elbowed them in the side of the head, sending them tumbling off of her and over the side of the bed onto the floor.

"…rrrnngggh…Gretel…what the fuck…" Hansel groaned, from the floor.

Gretel stared around in the dark, wide-eyed and a little frantic as the last wisps of the dream…nightmare faded. She could feel it again. Something…in here with them. Some lingering feeling, like being watched. The hand at her throat released its grip…her own hand.

She sat up quickly, swinging her legs over the side and panting heavily. Her hand kept instinctively going to feel her throat but she couldn't bring herself to touch it after what she'd done in her sleep. Hansel rolled over on the floor, into her feet and she struggled not to flinch.

Gretel frowned. Shit like this didn't normally get to her, and she didn't like to admit it, but that dream had rattled her.

She slid down onto the floor, helping Hansel up as he sat back against the bed beside her.

"If I'd known you were gonna do that I might've kept the floor." He grumbled. "You never used to have nightmares, did you?"

"Only the ones about our parents." She replied, staring blankly into the dark. "But they weren't like this."

Something was wrong. The feeling wasn't going away this time. They weren't alone.

It had been about a week since they'd arrived in Dachau. And despite some rumblings from Hansel, they'd managed to take a break, enjoying the opportunity to relax and recuperate. Eat and drink. Not worry about anything.

Then a few nights ago, Gretel had had the nightmare. Woke up violently, gasping and struggling, Hansel fighting to calm her.

Then the next night too. And the next. And tonight. It had been so sudden. Out of nowhere.

"Gretel." Hansel murmured, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Hansel's hand was on her bare thigh, slowly moving upward, between her legs. He'd leaned over and kissed her neck, his breath warming her, the stubble of his shaven face scratching her skin, not unpleasantly.

He was trying to cheer her up, and she appreciated it, if nothing else. It was tempting to relax and go along with it, but…something was wrong. It was distracting her.

"Wait." She replied, quietly. Hansel stopped.

Gretel slowly brought her breathing under control. Hansel leaned against her, fumbling for one of her hands. She took it gratefully.

Something about this felt all wrong. It was all too sudden. Too…real. And she could still feel it, whatever it was, out there in the dark of their room, with them.

And the window was open.

"You okay?" Hansel asked, trying to catch her eye.

"Fine." She replied, curtly. "Listen."

She held her breath and brought up her other hand flat, indicating for him to do the same.

The room was silent. Still. Dark. But too much. It was the kind of silence, stillness, you got when someone, like they were, was trying to be quiet, and still.

"Fuck." Gretel heard her brother hiss through his teeth.

"Trousers." Gretel muttered.

Hansel passed them over and she started pulling on the leather breeches, slowly.

"Shirt." Hansel murmured back.

She reached behind her and passed his shirt over. He pulled it on while she finished buckling her belt.

"Shotgun?" Gretel whispered, slowly edging herself up to her feet, pushing against the bed.

"By the door." Hansel replied, buttoning his shirt. "Rifle?" He asked, getting up carefully beside her.

"Window." She replied, tersely.

They shared a brief, plain look, and reached for Gretel's boots, left by the foot of the bed. Each pulled a long knife from a holster in the inner-lining.

The witch, whatever or whoever it was, hadn't reacted yet. Gretel hoped that considering they were in the dark, the bitch wasn't relying on sight. Maybe sound.

They could work with that.

"Gretel." Hansel hissed.

"Give me the other knife." She whispered back, through her teeth. "Get your rifle."

"Gretel-"

Gretel rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of Hansel's shirt, kissing him hard. She used his surprise to take his knife and pulled away, facing across the room.

She didn't know where the witch was, but hurled the knife toward the small dead fire.

Something shrieked, and the room was briefly illuminated by light when the blast from a wand shimmered and sparked, fizzling toward them. Gretel had a second or so to see the intruder. A twisted, hunched over old creature, wrapped in rags and furs with no eyes and an alarming number of teeth.

This witch had either forgotten that magic couldn't harm them or panicked, either way, it had given them some time.

"Go!" Gretel yelled, running toward the door. Behind her, she heard Hansel move to the window.

The witch snarled, going after her brother. Gretel swore under her breath and threw the second knife. The witch cried out, her throw having at least hit something, and another wave of shimmering light flew toward her, passing her harmlessly and turning the wall behind her into stone.

It creaked and cracked and the petrified segment caved outward, leaving a large hole.

Gretel made it to her gear, grabbing her leg harness and drawing Jackson's shotgun as the witch bore down on her. She could hear the air rushing and the creature hissing angrily.

She spun around, silently glad she and her brother made a point of keeping their weapons loaded at all time, raising the shotgun and gave it both barrels. The room was illuminated again in the flashes, and the stench of gunpowder filled her senses.

The witch disappeared in the explosion of the first shot, violently cartwheeling backwards into the far wall. The second shot knocked the witch back again, screaming and gurgling blood and stunning her as she scrabbled to get away.

Gretel took her time reloading, pushing two more shells into the breech, because she'd already seen Hansel with had found his rifle.

"Get you for thissss!" The witch screamed, crawling hurriedly toward the open window, where her brother was waiting, quietly.

"Good luck with that." Gretel smirked, walking toward her. She picked up a lamp from the table on the way, lighting it.

The room was washed in a dull, orange glow. Hansel had his rifle aimed directly at the witches head and it didn't look like she could even tell, as she struggled up, trying to back out of the window.

The witch was blind. A stained, torn old rag pulled across where her eyes would be. Skin cracked and discoloured. Long, pointed teeth and unnaturally long fingers, with claws, more than nails.

Dreamseers. Not many of them still around. And they freaked Gretel the fuck out every time.

"One chance." Gretel snarled. "What did you want?"

The witch hissed through her teeth, snapping forward, clawed hands outstretched. Beside her, unflinching, Hansel fired twice. The witches head disappeared in an explosion of flesh, sticky blood and fragments of skull.

Unfortunately, before the witches headless corpse hit the floor, much of it plastered itself over Gretel.

"Thanks, brother." Gretel raised an arm, mopping her face with her sleeve.

"Sorry." Hansel let his rifle rest over his shoulder, grinning apologetically.

The door to their room burst open and Ben, followed by the owner, a barmaid, and several other guests and patrons crowded in, curiously, if a little hesitant.

"What…what happened?" Ben stared from them, to the still-twitching, leaking corpse slumped beneath the window.

"What is that?!" The innkeeper demanded, pointing to the dead…thing.

Gretel turned back to the corpse, when she noticed something. A shadow, cast by the moon outside over the body. She stared sharply outside.

"It's-" Hansel began, when she grabbed his shoulder.

On the roof across the street, was a figure. Outlined against the clear sky. Too dark to see any details but. It was moving, she thought, its arm was-

"Get down!" Gretel threw herself at her brother, as the entire window, and the wall along with it, caved inward in a sea of splinters, shards and debris.

"Witches!" Someone cried among the guests. "Witches!"

More were yelling.

Gretel rubbed her ears, which were ringing. Hansel was on his back, beneath her, looking torn between amusement and irritation.

"Always gotta land on me?" He grumbled. Gretel felt one of his hands slyly making its way up her hip toward her ass.

"Hardly the time." She muttered rolling off of him quickly.

"Suppose so." He threw her a stupid grin as Ben rushed forward, helping them up.

"Are you alright? You look-" Ben asked, worriedly, holding her arm.

"Great." She replied, waving a hand dismissively.

The second figure was long gone, when Gretel looked out the new hole in the wall where the window had once been. The cold night air blasted through like a gale, but for a moment she swore she could hear something like laughter, carried on the wind.

"She's just annoyed because she wasted a bath." Hansel shouldered Ben, smirking.

"Shut up." Gretel scowled, trying to wipe more drying blood from her face.

The innkeeper and the others bustled in behind them, staring at the wreckage in a mixture of fear and awe. She figured they had seconds before questions started getting asked. Like what the fuck brought witches all the way into town? Why did they happen to attack the only two witch-hunters around? Say, there weren't any witches before you turned up, is this your fault?

They'd seen it all before.

Something brought the witches here. And for once, Gretel had a suspicion it might have been them. She'd had the nightmares for a few nights, which meant the Dreamseer had been using her nightmares to look for something in her head all that time. Could have killed them, and didn't.

What were they after? Didn't know. Had they found it already? Probably not, since they interrupted the witch tonight, in pretty severe terms. They needed time to work this out. And they had at least one lead, she glared out across the rooftops again.

In the street below Gretel heard slow, lumbering footsteps. Edward was up and about. She heard him sniff the air, patiently, then turn to look up at the hole in the building, where she was standing.

"Witches." Edward grumbled, uneasily.

"Thanks, Edward." Gretel managed a smile. "Wait there, we'll be down in a bit."

The crowd was already muttering. Some looked worried, some suspicious. Some angry.

"Hansel." Gretel shot her brother a look. He nodded, understanding, and turned toward the crowd.

"People," Hansel held up a hand, speaking in his best 'authority' voice. ", it would appear you have a witch problem."

It was a half-truth, at least.