“Hey, can I borrow your phone?” The witch girl asked the middle aged man whose hand she was holding.

He coughed in surprise, “I… I guess?”

“Cool,” Sabrina smiled in a way she hoped was reassuring. It wasn't.

To the pale young woman in lacy Victorian cosplay taking notes with unsettling intent, she said “check his pockets. I gotta keep holding his hand. He's right handed—check the way his shoes were tied, but in general it's just a safe bet.”

Josette—Jinxy—was thrilled to be taking part in this. The man was a little uncomfortable to have the wide eyed goth digging around in his jeans, but he was probably more uncomfortable with the metal rod through his chest.

Sabrina could relate.

“Am I dying…?” He asked, somehow still among the living in spite of it.

“Nah, nah. You're good,” Sabrina said with a wave of her left hand and a squeeze of her right. “Just keep holding my hand and you'll be fine.” To her companion she added. “You got it? Good, hand it here.”

“Don't you have one?” Jinxy wondered, voice a soft whisper as she handed over the phone. She had her moleskin back out and the rapid scratching of a fountain pen filled the space between the man’s gasps and moans. That thing had been only a few pages filled at the start of the night, but she’d need a second one if things went much longer.

“Needs to be his,” Sabrina whispered back.

“What…” the man wasn't sure he wanted to know. “What happens if I let go?”

“Well,” Sabrina rocked her head left and right. “Well, then you will die.” She gave him a big smile. His grip tightened and so did hers, though their hands were bound together by a shoelace covered in his blood. It was tight, and digging into the skin. “So don't let go, yeah?”

“Why his?” Jinx asked, looking at the dying man with a disturbing interest.

Sabrina put the phone down on the ground.

“I don't want to do this with mine,” the witch explained. She raised her arm high. A broom appeared in her hand. It was about six feet long, with bristles of twine wrapped straw that seemed like they’d been just rescued from the fire, tips still glowing. Charms of pierced coins and wire wrapped crystals jingled as she slammed the end of the handle into the screen, hard enough to splinter glass and dent the internals.

The man flinched, but his injury pulled. He let out a hiss and whimpered, hand tightening. “It hurts…”

The broom was gone when Sabrina started gently poking at the blood, getting it all over her finger. “You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend?” The man shook his head. “Jinxy, how does Juste spell his name? I know it's French or something.”

“French would be J U S T E.” Helpful little freak Jinxy was. There were burrs, but she'd fit in with the coven in no time. As long as she didn’t try to kill anyone again.

Sabrina scrawled the letters across the phone screen. Then she started blowing on it.

There were three of them were out on the back lawn, in the material at least. Sabrina and her most recent apprentice were quite the pair. Jinxy wore haut couture, black and lacy. Gothic Lolita style straight from Shibuya or Akihabara. She was ready for a photo shoot.