“I really wish you’d chosen differently,” she said shaking her head at them like naughty children.

“Or what?” retorted Derrick, tired of her games.

A chill wind came up out of nowhere-in the house. However, All Hallows Eve was upon them, and even in these modern times, strange forces worked on this most arcane of nights as spiritual magic reached its peak.

Clarissa raised her hands, palms upward. Her lips moved in an almost inaudible prayer. The words slipped greasily past his hearing, discordant sounds that made him wince. A heavy stink of ozone permeated the air, electrical and tingling along his senses.

Mark’s face creased with alarm. “She’s casting a spell.”

“I’d say that’s obvious.” Derrick rolled his eyes and decided to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. He reached for the witch who’d done an excellent job of hiding her true self up till now. Time to give her the bum rush.

“No!” cried his brother reaching for him.

Even as Mark grabbed his arm, Derrick’s hand connected with Clarissa’s and a lightning bolt of pain rushed through his system, making his eyes widen. The rush of power coursing through his body was excruciating and to his annoyance, he blacked out.

When Derrick regained consciousness in an ignoble heap on the floor, the witch stood over him with a smirk. “Ah, did I hurt the big bad wolf?” Her cajoling tone pissed him off.

“Bitch.” He staggered to his feet and reached for her again. His hand passed through her, a strange sensation that made him shudder, and she cackled at the look on his face.

Derrick brought his hands to his face and looked at them-and through them. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“To us?” said Mark who appeared at his side looking just as ghostly. Derrick didn’t know what astounded him more-the fact the bitch had turned them into spirits or the fact his brother actually looked mad.