I'm Coven A Good Time IV

Witch.

A human who had tapped the well of creation, or, as the humans of old called it, the Natural Order, and gained the ability to commune with the very nature of reality and cast magic on their own right.

Anastasia Greythorne, dubbed as the Witch of the Burning Woods, by herself, of course, is a powerful witch capable of harnessing the weave of magic and, in fact, uses it to make herself look three hundred years younger than she is.

During their week-long mentorship in which Irwin learned, practised, and created witchcraft for both protection and infliction, Anastasia had restricted her lessons to only one topic: How to kill a witch.

Of course, it was understandable given Irwin's recent tendency to deliver unto heaven her immediate family, but it was not like Irwin had no inkling as to the hows of witch killing. There is, after all, the most famous one.

"Iron?" Irwin suggested.

"Iron? Well, that might work... like fairies get hurt by iron." Garth shrugged. "So maybe we could melt iron and turn it into bullets?"

"That could work. Though we have to bypass their spells first 'cause a witch like this might've got a few tricks up their sleeves." He replied.

Though the Winchester brothers did not deal much with witches during their earlier years, their fathers, John and Bobby, had, on occasions, still taught them the basics of witch hunting which they used to deal with the Book club and their Borrower witch. "Maybe I have a few spells in me that could deal with them. You know, fight fire with fire." He said, delving into his mind and not noticing Garth's jaunt reaction to his words.

'Menu. Skills.' Irwin commanded. Although he knew summoning the menu window was not necessary given his familiarity with the system functions, it still relaxed him to know that his Great Hunter System still works in full.

■■

[Character || Skill || Supernatural Record || Status || Quests || Trade Shop]

■■

[Personal Skill/s: Marksman (Lvl 01); Minor Alcohol Tolerance; Natural Order (Lvl Max)]

[Job Skill/s: Human Magic (Lvl 01); Arcane Resistance (Lvl 02)]

[System Skill/s: Natural Immunity (Lvl Max); Enhanced Physique (Lvl 01)]

■■

[Magik]

[Personal Magik]

▪︎ Mind Guardian Charm (Lvl 01) (Human)

▪︎ Flame Whip Spell (Lvl 02) (Human)

▪︎ Blood Scry (Lvl 01) (Fairy)

▪︎ Blight Hex (Lvl 01) (Human)

[System Magik]

▪︎ Ward Of Obviation (Lvl 01) (Pagan)

■■

"I could use a Flame Whip spell? I think that would work, they're still humans and fire is bad for humans." Irwin touched the bottom of his chin, scratching it slightly as he lamented his inability to learn the more powerful spells in Anastasia's bookshelves. "Maybe Plan B is magic fire. What do you think?"

He turned around to see Garth with a serious expression on his face and a gun in his hands. Toggling the safety off, the man aimed the firearm at his partner and stepped closer.

"You're a witch?" He asks firmly yet Irwin could see the ever-so-subtle hesitation on his body.

"A magical practitioner is what I would prefer to be called. Witch is... an outdated term by the ignorant and uneducated elite who fears the unknown for its ability to shake their sole hegemony over the very society their ancestors built." Irwin replied, putting his hands above his head in mock surrender. "Have you fought a witch yet, Garth?"

"I haven't. Not really." Garth replied, eyeing Irwin's every move as he traversed the hotel room. "But what I know and heard, from you no less, is that Witches are monsters. Like Werewolves."

"Are we really going to do this? C'mon, you know me. You know I had a deal with my witch aunt and you know how I killed both my uncle and my great-great-grandfather who was a werewolf." Irwin noted. Chuckling to himself regarding the absurdity of the situation. "Put the gun down and help me kill the witch."

"Fine, but don't hex me, alright?" Garth threw the gun towards the king-sized bed and walked towards Irwin before enveloping the latter with a warm embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Oh," Irwin grunted as he felt his partner's heavy frame, chuckling at the man's penchant for skinship before returning a brief hug. "Fine. I won't hex you. I don't even know a hex."

Garth removed himself from Irwin. "You don't? Aren't hex bags like the staple of witches?"

"Well, I know one but mostly for general bad luck charm. I call it the Blight Charm. Makes food taste like ash, wilts all plants and greenery, spoils all perishable items, roots wood, and makes it so that the target has a higher tendency to get ill."

Garth whistled low, shaking his head at the effect of the charm. "That's screwed up."

"It is," Irwin admitted as he lay down on the bed. His mind raced to scour every bit of pertinent information regarding witches that he could positively remember. Although the show showed, fought, and killed a few witches during its early to mid-season, it was during the start of the tenth season did they fully delved into the basics of witchcraft with the introduction of the brother's resident enemies-turned-allied witch, Rowena McLeod.

His mind then turned towards the system function Supernatural Record. A function whose function he had recently learned when during one of Anastasia's long-winded lessons, a system prompt suddenly flared within his mind. The function allowed him to mentally record any and all information regarding the supernatural entities and phenomena he came across inside of the function thereby being able to peruse said information with but a mental prompt.

Like a normal person, Irwin was ecstatic and surprised by the function, even noting down that its use would make a hunter's journal entirely reductive, at least on his part, but when he browsed the available information, all he found was...

[No Information Available]

A system error, he foolishly thought as he closed and re-opened the window only to find...

[No Information Available]

Of course, he tried searching for information regarding werewolves. It was, after all, the very first monster he came across after occupying Richard's body.

■■

[Lycanthropes, mainly known as Werewolves, are a race of partially-human supernatural creatures, able to morph into a combination of human and wolf. Werewolves are carnivorous humanoids that feed on live flesh, preferably humans and leave a certain mark on their victims by always eating their hearts.]

▪︎ Types

▪︎ Characteristics

▪︎ Known Abilities

▪︎ Known Weaknesses

▪︎ Cure

▪︎ Notable Members

■■

Through the tried and true use of trial and error, Irwin found himself scratching his head at the situation. It turns out that all his knowledge regarding the television show from his previous life was not officially recorded by the system function.

"Maybe we could take a scratch at history." Suggested Garth as Irwin spaced out. "The Salem witch trials."

"Huh, did you know that the Salem trials were perpetrated by the Men Of Letters to reduce the power of the Grand Coven by riling the Catholic church against the 'purported' witches?" Irwin recanted his fun fact to a slightly horrified Garth. "Yeah, they use like one of those circle metal contraptions warded by the Men Of Letters so that the witches can't cast any spells or..."

Halting his words, Irwin gazed at Garth with a knowing look as the latter shared the same one.

"That could work? Will that work?" Garth asked, shrugging with a smile.

"I mean, maybe. Our only problem is them casting spells and if we could take that out of the equation and even hinder their concurrent active spells..." Irwin trailed, before pouting. "But where can we find- Oh!" He exclaimed.

Disregarding the confused Garth, Irwin went to the table in the next room. Place atop the glass coffee table was the evidence boxes from the Chicago police department. Irwin removed the lid of the box containing the mounted skull which, as the two guessed, used as a conduit, or in Irwin's words, a special hex bag, for their specific spell.

Touching the deer head inside the plastic bag, Irwin commanded his Trade Shop.

■■

[Trade Shop]

[Please Select And Specify The Item You Wish To Trade]

■■

"Mounted skull. Filter out all non-witch-related items."

■■

[Trade Accepted]

[Trade List Incoming...]

■■

The list barged in like a drunk uncle on Christmas and assailed his blue eyes. "Uh, search for Witchkiller."

"Huh? Maybe we can find one in a pawn shop?" Answered Garth.

"Hush."

■■

[Trade not acceptable!]

■■

Irwin scratched his head and turned to his bewildered partner. "What was it called again... Witchtchocker?"

"What? Oh, you're talking to me now. I think it's called a 17th-century Witchcatcher." Garth replied before another look of confusion marred his face as Irwin delved into his mind.

■■

● Unenchanted Witchcatcher [Weapon] | Trade For: One (1) item

● Broken Witchcatcher [Weapon] [Fragment] | Trade For: One (1) Fragment

■■

Irwin groaned. "Well, looks like my source can't get me a working Witchcatcher, enchantments and all."

"Huh? What source? how?" Looking at Irwin like a madman, Garth went on to ask a few more questions, none of which were answered.

"It is not a matter of cannot, exactly. It's a matter of will not. We need better trade because this is just some deer skull with bits of magic in it." Irwin slapped the mounted skull in annoyance. "We need to find a monster's nest."

"Hey, muchaho! Context please?"

"Oh, sorry. I have a magic that could get us the Witchcatcher, but I need a corpse of monsters to summon it." Irwin explained.

"Ok, not the weirdest thing someone asked of me," Garth said with a short laugh. "It'll take us a few days but we can check the newspapers or the internet."

"Nah, I got something more... reliable."

Much to Garth's now visible frustration, Irwin exited their hotel room and went to their truck which was parked in the underground parking lot.

During his week-long home training with the Witch of the Burning Woods, Irwin had prioritized the acquisition of weapons and materials frequently used by hunters both in the show and in real life. But when he was allowed to practice his magic and be taught by a powerful witch, he tasked Archibald to gather other items for him. Components for magical spells to be specific, some of which were as rare as a golden dove. Of course, to Archibald and his shrewd acumen, acquiring such was not a hassle given their family's familiarity with witches and their need for the same rare items.

Opening the trunk of the truck and lifting the false bottom, Irwin searched the edges of the weapon cache for a small dent or a groove.

"Holy hell! You could take out a small army with these weapons." Garth was impressed by the miniature armoury in Irwin's truck. "Wait? Is that a grenade? What if someone had hit us while we were driving?"

"Well, you know, I'm a good driver." Irwin laughed before finally finding the groove and pulling it outwards. The cache of weapons parted in the middle, revealing rows of jars, clear plastic bags filled with dirt, and a glass jug full of oil. There was a clear-cut distinction between the weapons and the spell components, one for both of them and the other just for Irwin.

After gently removing a large prism from the bottom row, Irwin then plucked a small glass bottle containing a crimson liquid. "Close the trunk and follow me."

Garth nodded as he closed the container of the component, noting the Sony walkman at the edge of the weapon's cache before shaking his head and fully closing the trunk of the truck.

●●●●●●

The large prism stood vertically atop the coffee table without any harness or help, much to Garth's amazement, as Irwin flipped through an A4 notebook full of spell enchantments and arcane diagrams he had noted down during his magic lessons.

"Alright, found the chant for the Blood Scry."

Irwin unscrewed the lid of the small bottle and poured a drop of its crimson liquid atop the apex of the prism. The crimson drop popped as it pierced the sharp edge of the prism and ran down on all of its surfaces.

Irwin took a deep breath, closed his eyes and channelled his inner magician. "Ostende mihi hoc sanguine propius."

The prism shook slightly, and the blood flowed faster, but nothing happened.

"Did you say it wrong?" Garth asked.

"No, I didn't. I practised it like a thousand times. Let me do it again." Irwin once again closed his eyes and imagined Anastasia's way of channelling her magic. "Ostende mihi hoc sanguine propius."

No sooner than Irwin finished the chant did his closed eyes glowed with purple light with the edges of his face showing the vein underneath his skin. The prism, much like his eyes, glowed purple as it absorbed the blood and suddenly spun in place. The spinning grew faster as the normal crystalline form began to be replaced by a dark aura.

Within Irwin's mind, a phenomenon was happening. He could barely see, through a sea of smoke and whispers, an old building. Vines and rust chewed through its metal foundations as vibrant smells pervaded his nostrils. The howls of wolves echoing in his ears as a location, more so a feeling than an actual coordinate entered his mind. And he opened his eyes.

Garth's mouth was wide, staring at the still-spinning prism. "That was magical."

"I know," Irwin replied with a low whisper, focusing on the location. "Come, I found us a nest."

-

Another chapter tomorrow. Apologies for the delay.

-