The past four months seemed to be a blur of shitty music and shitty bars, mingled here and there with milk run hunts and whoever's bed she woke up in. Some nights she had forgotten all together and others Mar was sure had something to do with poorly timed jokes and a headache she woke up with—Tequila probably was a bad choice in hindsight. The sun reflected off of a sign, halfway blinding her, as she pulled in front of the suburban house. Cop cars and various civilians were scattered in front of the caution-taped home and a few beer bottled rattled in the floorboards as Mar parked the car. Taking the time to smooth out her pantsuit, Mar strode up to the officer near the door- badge in hand. The man (quite young and wiry) merely nodded at her before lifting the yellow tape. The house was fit for a nuclear family, complete with color coded family pictures on the walls—except for the fact that, face down, in the living room was a dead middle aged women.
"Feds?" The gruff voice broke her concentration on the women and Mar looked up at the older Sherif, starring inquiringly at her.
"Agent connors," She quickly flipped open her fake fbi badge and tucked it back away in her jacket, "So this is the second death, agent…"
"Gill," He finished, touching his thumb to his nose for a moment, "Yes, Second in the past three days, Different ages and families but both... um," He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, "Peculiar." Mar's eyes fell to the pool of blood near the women and the sharp objects scattered in the liquid—nails.
"Mind if I take a moment to look around," Agent Gill nodded at her question, stepping back a bit.
"Be my guest." With that he walked off and took up a conversation with another officer across the room. Mar surveyed the women for a second but, with another glance at the others, stepped around the corner and down the hallway. She peried in every draw and ran her hand along the undersides of the tables and counters. The whole situation screamed 'witch.' As she finally made her way back to the kitchen, her hand ran across something underneath a bar stool—rough and circular. Tugging, it came loose and low and behold, a hex bag. Sighing, Mar placed it in her jacket and retreated out the door, quickly glancing at the small crowd that had gathered. Mar stopped, as something in her head told her to look again.
Her eyes fell to a tall, dark women, halfway hidden behind another. She was mumbling something under her breath and froze when Mar did. Something about her seemed off and apparently she thought the same as she turned on her heals and quickly made her way out the back of the crowd. Mar followed suit, trailing a safe distance behind before she watched the women walk into a similar house a few blocks down the street, closing the door behind her. Mar snuck up to the side window and strained her neck to peer in. Whoever the woman was she seemed anxious, pacing and fidgeting constantly but Mar's eyes widened as the women began to gather a collection of jars from a shelf and empty them into a bowl near an open book. 'Fuck, that's the witch' Mar thought as she felt for the gun in her waistband. Turning the knob, she shoved on the door and it gave way a bit too easily, causing her to stumble slightly but Mar quickly raised the gun at the witch, stepping forward carefully. The woman was caught off guard as she finished her words, her eyes widening just as Mar stepped close. She let out a worried noise just as Mar blocked her path from the bowl. A sudden rush overcame her, like cool air and the woman's eyes widened further, partially at the spell now enveloping Mar and partially at the gun's barrel, nearly pressed to her forehead.
"What, you were weren't a fan of your neighbors?" Mar geared but the witch only raised her hands in surrender.
"It wasn't me," She paused a moment, glancing at the gun then at Mar, "Please put it down. I'm trying to figure this out too."
"Oh, you're a hunter?" Mar kept the gun trained closely on her forehead.
"Well, no, but when another witch is killing people a few feet from my house, I tend to notice." Something in her tone made Mar smirk as she finally tucked her gun back into her waist band and stepped back slightly, giving the women some space. She looked at her a bit more carefully this time, noticing her slightly tangled hair that stopped just before her shoulders and her almost hazel eyes like the moment cream begins to cloud in coffee.
"So what, you're just a suburban witch?" Mar eventually questioned, her tone still taking on a sense of skepticism.
"Something like that," She replies, "Names, Angie by the way," She added. Mar simply nodded at her before glancing about the room. The house seemed clean and relatively tasteful. The walls were relatively bare in the dining room but something along the fridge caught her eye. Under the calendar taped to the fridge was a magnet—one like those drawings a child makes only to have their school sell them to their parents on mugs and t-shirts. A laugh began to draw up from Mar's chest.
"You're squatting here?" She chuckled, to which Angie returned a smile.
"Guilty," Angie gestures almost playfully and a smile pulled again at Mar's lips. Scoffing, Mar looked about the room again before bringing her eyes back to the women.
"Alight, well just stay out of my way," Mar's face returned to her stone glare she wore before. Angy lifted her brow a bit in contempt but her expression faded into a worrisome look as her eyes followed Mar out the door.
Mar sighed as she turned the corner, walking back to her motel. A small brown bag was hoisted up in one arm from the gas station down the road filled with beer and a few random snacks that had caught her eye. The hairs on her arm stood up as someone let out a muffled cry. An older woman was pinned against the wall only a few feet from her by a man, clad in a ripped ski mask, that wielded a knife. Mar immediately ran up to him, one hand lightly feeling for her gun and the other held out defensively.
"Hey!" She succeeded in catching his attention as the knife was now pointed at her instead of the women, "We can all just calm down and..," Mar took another step forward but the man lunged forward, lodging the knife into Mar's stomach. A searing pain shot through her and on instinct she ripped it out of herself. The older women had since ran but the Man was frozen, eyes seemingly wide behind the mask. The knife, still coated in blood clanged to the ground but the pain dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. She looked down at the bloodied rip in her shirt and the man took the opportunity to run, taking up the knife with him. Pulling at the fabric, Mar craned her neck to examine the wound but only found smooth skin where it should have been. What the Fuck? Her mind quickly flashed back to witch's house and the rush of air that had come over her. She hadn't really noticed it much then but it dawned on her now. A spell had hit her and now a sense of worry washed over her.
The edge of the motel mirror had rusted, honestly though, that was probably the least worrisome thing on the walls in that room. Mar stood in front of the mirror, eyes running over her own features and her black hair, falling just past her shoulders. Her hand ran along her chest, stopping to pull a chain tucked away beneath her shirt. The chain was simplistic and cheap but her fingers danced fondly across the ring it held, smooth and beautiful. She traced the enochian engravings and sighed, sliding it back beneath the thin t-shirt she had changed into. Stepping from the bathroom, she made her way to the duffle tossed on the bed and retrieved a thin, silver handled knife before slicing it across her forearm. Mar hissed at the pain but watched as the wound closed itself up, leaving behind only a thin layer of blood where the knife had been.