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Witchcraft and Applesauce

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I knew I was in trouble, real serious trouble, when the spellbooks came out. Now mind, it was never the best idea to go after a coven of witches alone, but all the other members of the task force were busy and I had the base to myself, so when the alert came in I had no choice.

I walked slowly into the abandoned warehouse, cautiously peering around corners, gun and flashlight held out in front of me. Every new room I cleared filled me with a sense of relief; maybe this was a false alarm, or the witches had already left. Maybe they were already dead.

"Cmon," I whispered to myself. "Focus. These witches could be anywhere."

"Oh, you're perfectly right, dear," a low, taunting voice said from behind me.

I spun around, trying to aim at the speaker, as my gun was knocked out of my hand by a flying spell. There was the coven, not fifteen feet away, standing with their spellbooks out.

"Mutare ad cibum!" cried the witch directly in front of me, pointing at me with a long, taloned finger. I could feel myself shrink and shift as my flashlight clattered out of my hand, falling onto the damp concrete floor. One of the other witches chuckled and picked me up in one gnarled hand.

"Really, Bethesda? Food?"

"What?" laughed the witch who had changed me, "I was craving applesauce."