The Witches on BellaRow Street

10. It's Getting Hot In Here!

I am heat. I am light. I am fire.
*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ

Yes, Fucked.

For a while, I study the collection of photos spread across the table, refusing to pick them up. I don't need too. Aunt BeeBee's already arranged them in consecutive order, judging by the time stamp labeled at the bottom of each photo. I assume it's her way of organizing the shit show.

I'm not judging her. We all have our vices.

As I look closer, each photo has four things in common. First, they were not taken by your typical digital store-bought camera with options to change the color setting. They're not B&W photos. The asshole who caught us used an advanced night vision camera like the ones nature watchers use to film animal activity in the woods. However, it doesn't explain how the Photo-Stalker had time to print the photos, leave it on our doorstep, and follow me to Zion's place unless it's more than... nope, don't think it. Yanni, erase that thought from your mind.

A chill crawls up my back as I take a deep breath and focus on all the information I'm gathering inside my head; Careful not to explode mentally.

Okay, second, the pictures were taken at an angle. To a well-trained eye, like myself, I could tell the Creeper took the photos, up high, looking down on us. So, I'm guessing they were on top of a roof or in an apartment building across the street. However, everything that happened, we didn't plan, so either the stalker is a random stranger or someone who knew where we would be at that specific time and location. Right?

But everyone knows the National Investigative Witch Police (NIWP) has banned any Witch or Warlock using magic to track someone's future location for personal gain. Or harm.

Third, photos like these can be traced the 'normal' way, but we'll need someone who has top-secret underground tech connects like Zion. He knows people, who know shadier people since he's in the IT world. However, showing him these photos will only lead to more questions, secrets exposed, and possibly a mental breakdown. So, he's 100% out.

Finally, the most common thing all the photos have are evidence of Zetish magic. The same magic used in the alley and on the 'not dead, but I need to ask Aunt BeeBee if he's dead' body. Meaning we can't use a spell to locate the origin of the photos.

We're at a dead-end, no pun intended.

And that's what I mean by, we're fucked.

I glance at Aunt BeeBee, hoping she can shed some light, but she's dissecting the note they received along with the photos. I don't know what it says, and honestly, I'm not interested in finding out. But if it's anything like the insidious note I found taped on my car window, then I'll pass. I'm not accustomed to threats, and I hate bullies. However, I need to tell them about my note, the one that's currently in my coat pocket.

In the background, behind me, I hear a few pans banging, a fridge closing, and someone clearing their throat. Someone's trying to get my attention. I don't have to guess; I already know who it is.

"Shimmering Lilacs..." Faylayee smiles about the same time I turned around to face her. "And gold."

We're in the middle of a crisis, someone is stalking us, and the closest thing Faylayee can say is Shimmering Lilacs. Did I miss something?

I peeked at Junie, waiting for her explanation, but she has her hands on her hips, and the 'don't look at me, that's your sister' expression written all over her face.

I want to speak up, but I don't know what to say. Oh, wait, I know. "What are you talking about, Fay?"

"My wedding! Of course." Faylayee's eyes dance across the ceiling as if she's had an epiphany about something magical. Once she comes back to reality, she speaks. "I'm changing my color scheme to Shimmering Lilacs and Gold. What do you think?"