Whenever the ghost actually shut up for a few blissful moments, Squid could take that time to center herself. She sat on the bed, legs crossed, eyes closed as she took in deep breaths. On days like this, when the world was pretending to behave, she could have a microsecond of a moment for herself. Not that she cared or anything. No, it was merely the formality before the bullshit of the day began and she would be expected to play hero. Which she wasn’t. Like, seriously, humans were like roaches. Or the hydra. Take out on, fifty took its place. The ghost, while human when alive, was one the rare few she could find herself managing to tolerate. Ghouls, goblins, devils, demons, witches, other witches, pretend/wannabe witches, anything else specifically nonhuman, were pretty much already by her book. They hadn’t been the ones attempting to burn her at the stake. Repeatedly. Because, let’s face it, humans forget things five minutes after they actually did something.

How else can one explain them making the same mistakes over and over and over and over and over and over (well, you get the picture) again.

She opened her eyes as the ghost sat on the bed in front of her. She could still see the second smile across his neck. Alive he had kept it continuously covered, refusing to show it. It hadn’t been what killed him in the end. No, in the end, it had been indirectly her fault. No wonder he kept haunting her. But if he was expecting guilt or pity or sympathy… well, it wasn’t happening. He would be the first to die because of her and he wouldn’t be the last. She slid off the bed and walked to the window. The world had changed many times over. Now, it was on the very of collapse. People were afraid of everything — they were being herd, through fear, into the imprisoning embrace of the Grand Inquisitor. He had crossed off his political enemies, raised his powerful friends and allies into more powerful positions. He was already talking about the fear of what went bump in the night.

The supernatural world was not known to humans. Everyone made sure to keep it a secret. Who knows what would happen if humans — right, the burning of witches. Majority of them not. So many innocent lives lost to fear, greed, revenge. She would keep them secret, safe and sound. The sun was past the noon mark, which meant it would be around two or three. Today, she would be visiting the Witch’s Bar. She needed some ingredients and answers. Mostly answers. The ingredients were merely a courtesy.

The ghost was still standing beside her. Squid didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that. She let out a soft sigh. She would have to keep her human persona up today. Holding her hand out, a pink knitted beanie in the shape of a pink octopus appeared, the underside a soft purple, matching the few dots it had. She used her other hand to move soft locks behind her ears. “I’ll be back soon,” she told the ghost, although to everyone else, she was talking to an empty room.