Hex Dunn and the HolyCrap Sis What Have You Done?

HOLYCRAP SIS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Things are about to get very messy in a moment, so I better get you up to speed.

Whenever you happen to walk across a cemetery past midnight all alone, never attempt to mimic noises made by animals. Like a wolf. Especially a wolf. They're really nasty business. And don't even think about bats. Urgh.

As of the moment, I have an entire pack of the former making a circle around me, drooling their mouths off, and—watch this—they're all without eyeballs. Not a single one.

If you stare into their eyesockets for too long, chances are you might get sucked directly into that one wonderful tourist stop we all know as Hell.

I've no plan to go to Hell today.

Flying above me, in the form of the latter, is my younger sister. The only younger sister I have, actually. That might change in a few months, but only if we get out of this night alive. I personally don't think our odds are that good.

"Hex! The cauldron!" I hear my sister scream—it's another sister, mind you, there are seven of us, and this one's Daughter Number Four—as the wolves growl aggressively.

"Are you fucking with me? I'm busy!" I yell right back. That instant, one of the wolves decides to pounce.

If it wasn't for my blood heritage, I wouldn't have seen it coming.

"Repel!" I exclaim. The poor pouncing wolf suddenly dashes through the air away from me, as if an invisible force field suddenly strikes open in the distance between us. Apparently, the other wolves take that as a cue to strike—at the same time. I can feel a scratch on my back, a bite on my shoulder, an angry licking (can that even happen?) on my stomach, and basically the kind of activities that should leave bruises and blood all over me. I don't even have the luxury of screaming—the wolves overwhelm me and throw me to the ground before I can blink.

My sister—the bat one, not Daughter Number Four—finally has enough sense to just leave the scene.

Good for her.

"Get—off—"

Something's wrong. My Words aren't working. The wolves keep on gnawing my skin, and I have to consider myself lucky that Dad decided to give me the protection of Viril Minor when I was five. He didn't like the idea that his daughter played with knives at such a feeble age, so instead of taking the knives away, he gave his daughter skin as tough as lead. Awesome parenting there, Dad.

I try again to shrug the wolves away. They haven't tired of biting me yet, although it should be quite obvious to them right now that my skin won't give in. "Get off me!"

My Words finally take effect—but it's not as powerful as it should be. The wolves only get kicked away for something like a couple of feet before they strike again. I barely have the time to stand up.

"Burn!" I curse one of the wolves, giving it a bad case of bald tan to clear my path away from these susprisingly persistent supernatural beasts. "Stay away! Limit! Affix!"

One by one, my Words befall the wolves—but like my earlier attempt, those Words seem weaker and weaker the more I Speak. When I finally try to cast a petrify, I only manage to make the target wolf stumble a step before carrying on with its pursuit of me.

That can't be good.

"Hex!" my sister calls me again, her voice further away now. "Get—the—cauldron!"

"GET THESE WOLVES AWAY FROM ME FIRST YOU B—"

I didn't finish my curse—the leading wolf finally pounces, and I have to hand it to him, his aim's good. He lands squarely on my shoulder blades, and before I can take another step, the wolf's weight forces me down and I stumble.