Mistaken Identity

“No one likes spelt.” Mathias agreed. “I accept your offering of bacon.” Mathias said munching happily. “We need so much more bacon.” He said with a sigh, licking his fingers.

“Food run is on the list. I’ll check the bank and make sure money is transferred, then we can restock and head down to the beach and get a little downtime before we pick up the next job. We both need a little color.” Cyd said, sliding two plates onto the table, scooping breakfast into each.

“Please were so pale the light bouncing between us might make a laser beam of death … or steer ships away from the coastline.” Mathias joked as he sat down for breakfast, stretching out his stiff fingers.

“Hexers are going to come after us, thinking we’re bastard ghosts,” she joked.

“It was only a matter of time.” Mathias said solemnly.

Cyd ruffed his hair and grabbed two mugs full of coffee to join him at the table.

‘Hexers’ or Hex hunters were a small army of sorts, if you could call a handful of people an army. Magical bounty hunters who retrieved cursed objects, brought rogue beings to justice, exorcised demons and the like. It was lucrative if you knew the right people, deadly if you didn’t, but dangerous regardless of what you were after. The life expectancy of a Hex Hunter was quite short in comparison to Sleepers - a derogatory term used for regular people who are blissfully unaware of things that go bump in the night.