1. The Ghost of Paris Chapter 12: Afternoon At the Park & Epilogue: The Pink-Haired Girl


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    madman for the alley exit. A big, fit man stepped out of the alley. He had a dangerous-looking military bearing. I tried to slip past him, but his hands grabbed me, slamming me to the ground. The wind was knocked violently from my lungs and I could only stare up at the man as I coughed. The pink-haired bitch walked up. She was fastening something around her neck—a gold choker. The name “Alison” was writtenin diamonds, and inscribed below that was, “Mark and Mary's slut forever.” “You work for them?” I asked. “I was their first. I hunt filthy Warlocks like you down.” She gave a mock smile. “Well, you're my first Warlock. Turns out Sam's divining works perfectly. Only took me five minutes of walking down the street to get your attention.” More men were entering the square. They grabbed me, handcuffing my hands with plastic zip ties behind my back. “I want my lawyer,” I spat. “I know my rights.” The pink-haired bitch laughed. “Do we look like cops?” She pulled out a perfume bottle and sprayed it into my face. A strange feeling came over me, a kind of bubbly helpfulness. “Now, what's your name, Warlock?” “Scotty Adams,” I answered, wanting to please the beautiful, pink-haired woman. “Good.” I was happy, my answer pleased her. “Now, what did you wish for?” “Well, from the Devil, I wished to be invisible, for women to love my molestation, and to be immune from the elements. From Astarte, I wished for sexual stamina.” She whistled. “You made Pacts with two separate demons. You ...
    have been quite bad, Scotty. Now, have you heard of the Anti-Warlock act?” “Yes, I heard 'bout it.” “So why didn't you turn yourself in and claim the amnesty?” “Didn't want to give it all up,” I answered truthfully. “Well, Sergeant Holland, what's your assessment?” Alison asked the big guy who captured me. “I don't see why we need to bother our Mistress with this piece of shit,” he answered. “His powers doesn't let him permanently control people so he couldn't bind them with the Zimmah spell so we don't have to worry about any collateral deaths. And he did admit to hearing about the Anti-Warlock act. I say summary execution.” “I agree,” Alison answered, an angry, cold smile filling her lips. “Wait, what?” I asked. “You can't just kill me! I have rights.” “Warlocks do not have rights,” she snarled. “You all deserve to burn for what you did to my Desiree.” Who was that? I had never met a woman named Desiree in my life. I felt something hard, metal, pressing into the back of my head. This couldn't be happening. This was America. “Please,” I begged. “Scotty Adams, I condemn you to death for violating the First Commandment of the Theocracy: You shall not make Pacts with Demons.” “Wait!” I shouted. The gun barked. Then I was falling, falling, falling into darkness. The darkness gave way to fire. “Hello, Scotty,” the Devil grinned as I burned before him. A chain of molten, red metal was about my neck, connecting us. “I hope you had lots of fun.” I screamed and screamed. All I had to ...
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