i'll be there | cyan [c]

♕ | hex

Finding a hex bag is like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. At least, that's what I've decided. It doesn't help that Vinny's apartment looks like a bomb went off. Where the hell would anyone even hide a hex bag? Vinny's home almost all the time- they had to have been in and out quick if he was gone.

If they'd come in the middle of the night, I know Vinny would have heard them. I called Devin after awhile, still frantically searching for that damn hex bag.

"How's he doing?" I asked, turning my phone on speaker and chucking it onto the couch. "Still alive, yeah?"

Devin sounded exhausted. "Cutting it real close, Chris. My magic is running rather thin, and- ah- at the moment, I'm the only thing keeping him from bursting into fucking flames.." He muttered. "I can't keep this up. I couldn't counteract anything- whoever did this is too strong," He spoke softly. "Please.." he trailed off.

My heart was racing, and for a second, I was feeling lightheaded. I scampered around, knees wobbling and hands shaking. Where do you look when there's no where else to check? Where wouldn't Vinny have noticed something like this?

Duh.

He's a munchkin. He's short. He can't reach the high shelves, and-

"Chris,-!" Devin almost whined, coughing. I ran my hand along the top of the cupboards, grabbing a little bundle of cloth-wrapped bullshit. I lit the string of leather wrapped around it and tossed it into the empty side of the sink, blue flames bursting from the hex bag as it burnt.

"Devin..?" I spoke up, quiet. "Talk to me, would you..? I-.. I burnt it, the hex bag.. is he okay..?" I mumbled.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

I pursed my lips and covered my face with my hands, rubbing my eyes. "God dammit.." I spoke softly. After a few more agonizingly silent minutes, I heard Devin inhale, shaky. "You tried. That's.. what matters." He said, though I could tell he was probably close to crying.

Vinny had always been his family. Even if Devin would never say it directly, it was obvious the love he had for Vinny was more than platonic. A lot more.

I leaned on the counter, staring off at nothing in particular. I didn't know what to do, or say, or think.

     What are you thinking about?

I'm not dead, though! That'd take a silver bullet.

     Why do you think I'm here?

     I felt sick. I felt like I was back at the park again. In my mind, I saw Vinny. The way he was bleeding. How exhausted he looked. I wanted to fucking puke. "Devin..?"

     "Yes..?"

     "I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough.."

     "Don't be.." Devin stated unhappily. "I'll-.. I'll call Mags. He'll know better than I do where we should go from here.." He said, hanging up without another word. Again with all the talk about Mags. Whoever he is, he must be pretty important. At least, that's my guess. I suppose he could probably help with all of this more than I ever could.

     I feel so sick. This is my fault. It is. Vinny is dead. It's my fault he's dead. God, I want to puke.

A/N: predictions, anyone?