Unholy Magic
“Her luck lasted just as long as it took to walk down the hall and run into Oliver Fletcher, and to give in to his insistence that she “meet” with him in Roger’s office.She looked at the pictures in her hand again, shuffling through them as if she could erase the images by rubbing them against one another. Herself sitting on her living room couch, smoking a kesh. Bumping up off her hairpin, hunched over the wheel of her car. On the street with Terrible, his body a huge shadow next to her, tossing pills into her mouth. And again. And again.Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.She took a deep breath, tried to steady her voice as she tossed the pictures back on the desk toward Oliver Fletcher. Goodbye, new car. Goodbye, bedroom heater. Goodbye, last vestiges of integrity. “What do you want me to do?”“I think that should be obvious. I have these pictures, and I think they’d be of great interest to your emp—”“Yeah, I understand. I’m asking what you want me to do. Lie and say it’s a real haunting?
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