Hopelessly lost, Maya wandered through the city as she tried to navigate to Fey's apartment using Google Maps. She had been sidetracked more times than she could count, somehow managing to end up on opposite ends of the city before finally getting back on track.

  When she at last reached the towering apartment complex, she all but crashed through the entrance.

  “I hate Google Maps,” grumbled Maya and stumbled to the name list of the inhabitants. “Riwkin… Riwkin. Where is it?”

  Her biggest fear came true; Fey's apartment was on the highest floor.

  And the elevator was not working.

  Maya whined, “Why me, god.. Why?” she clambered up the flight of stairs. After five floors, Maya braced her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. “Why's this always happening to me? And why do you live so far up with your leg problem!?

  Maya passed out on the ground of the 7th or 8th floor. Her lungs were strained, and she struggled to keep the world from tilting around her. A giddy old couple passed her on their way up.

  Fiddling with her pocket, she checked the details on her phone whether she had climbed too high or not—a mistake she swore never to repeat.

  With a few more flights to go, Maya stopped when she spotted several carton boxes blocking the hallway.

  Looks like the right one, she thought and out of curiosity, peeked inside one of the open boxes. A colourful assortment of letter covers greeted her. “Did she keep all of our letters?”

  Rummaging a bit more, the sheer mountains of letters distracted Maya. Since they were teens, they had exchanged letters bimonthly, sometimes weekly. It was hard to believe they’ve only got to meet each other now after so many years.

  And by the influence of her zombie army.

  Maya chuckled when her eyes landed on a few older letters, stained and wrinkled with time. Just as she reached out for them, a guttural groan rumbled behind her.

  “Fey, that you—?” she started, turning her head to the unwelcome sight of Fey’s friends.

  Two undead greeted Maya with hollow, rasping breaths. Clad in tattered tunics and breaches, their mouldy green skin clung desperately to their decomposing and slouching forms. The whites of their eyes were milky and vacant, and their jaws slack, barely holding onto their skulls.

  One wore a simple iron war helmet, dented and rusted with age, while the other had half its skull exposed. Its shrivelling brain peeked out like a grotesque afterthought.

  And both were armed with spears and shields by their side.

  Maya fell backwards into the door as she shrieked at them, “Stay away!”

  Undeterred, the Draugr stepped closer and blocked her only exit. Maya panicked as she scrambled backwards and into the apartment, only to bump into something solid.

  Tilting her head, another Draugr loomed over her—although this one looked more suave than his counterparts.

  He exuded an unsettling sense of sophistication. His thick brown hair was slicked back, framing a neatly groomed moustache that covered his upper lip and hung from the sides. His attire was shockingly vibrant as he wore a baby-blue tunic with golden trim on the edges.

  He was by far the most colourful and stylish Draugr Maya had ever seen, making him look more like a merchant from the Viking times than a mindless husk.

  “Brruohr?” the merchant Draugr asked, frightening Maya to her very being. She collapsed to the side.

  Ah, is that how I die? she wondered before her life flashed before her eyes. I never spend enough quality time with Val—

  “Do you mind moping elsewhere?”

  Maya’s world turned abruptly cold and wet as a rush of water crashed over her. She jerked upright, sputtering out a mouthful of icy water.

  Dripping and dazed, she pushed her soaked coils out of her face—only to find Fey standing before her, wearing a lavender bathrobe.

  “Fey!? What the heck—!?”

  Another splash hit her square in the face, courtesy of the Draugr. Maya coughed, spitting out a mouthful of wet hair. “Okay, seriously—what was that for!?”

  The undead looked to Fey for guidance. With a lazy wave of her hand, she dismissed them. Only then did Maya realise the ‘weapons’ they held were simply mops and buckets for cleaning the floor. Maya felt embarrassed.

  “Would you mind not screaming like a damsel in distress?” Fey asked dryly, balancing herself with her crutch while wringing her wet curls. “I don’t want to give my neighbours a reason to hate me just yet.”

  “Fey, you—” Maya wiped her face with a towel handed to her. When she realised it was from a zombie, she recoiled and pressed herself flat against the wall.

  “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t use zombies ever again!?” she shouted, eyeing the undead peacefully cleaning the hallway.

  Fey raised an unimpressed brow. “I promised not to use them too much.” She strolled past Maya. “And how do you expect me to get up this ridiculous building without the elevator?”

  Maya opened her mouth to argue—then promptly closed it. “...fair enough.” she muttered, begrudgingly admitting defeat.

  “But don’t your neighbours find the zombies suspicious?” she asked, still glancing warily at the undead.

  “Glamour.” Fey grinned, waving her hand over her face. A shimmering rainbow flickered into existence before dispersing just as quickly as her mood. “Don’t forget to put on slippers when you enter my place.”

  She was about to move when Maya cleared her throat, arms crossed expectantly.

  Fey arched a brow. “What?”

  Maya jabbed a finger toward her dripping clothes and hair, her expression flat. “You mind?”

  Rolling her eyes, Fey flicked her fingers, sending out a gentle wave of hot air. It swirled around Maya, evaporating the moisture and fluffing up her coils back to their usual shape. Though her hair was saved, her clothes remained damp—nearly see-through in places.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Maya folded her arms tighter. “You could’ve dried everything.”

  “I could’ve,” Fey echoed, smirking. “But where’s the fun in that?” Maya shot her a glare, but Fey was already walking ahead. “You can change in a moment. Follow me.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Maya trailed behind her and immediately noted the state of Fey's apartment. It was still in the midst of being furnished, with boxes scattered across the floor and random items lying strewn out all over the floor.

  Among the clutter and lack of furniture, one single red sofa stood out in the middle of the living room and was currently occupied.

  “Is that her?” Maya asked, approaching the little mustelid preoccupied with grooming itself. She crouched down. “Hey Mistletoe. Can I touch you?”

  The female ferret lifted her head at the sound of her name. She had sleek white and brown fur and her mischievous brown eyes studied Maya curiously before inching closer to sniff her black fingers.

  Without hesitation, the ferret darted up Maya’s arm, scampered over her shoulders and promptly began nibbling on her neck.

  “Ah—stop! That tickles!” Maya laughed, scratching Mistletoe's chin, where a pink ribbon adorned her beauty.

  The ferret then noticed Maya's recently dried and thick curly hair. Mesmerised, she dove halfway into it.

  “Wait—no, don't—!” Maya protested to Mistletoe’s behaviour and tried to shake her out of her afro.

  Fey let out an amused whistle, “C’mere Missy. Stop terrorising your new friend.”

  At the sound of her name, Mistletoe perked up and withdrew from Maya’s curls, though not without an indignant little chitter. She leapt gracefully onto Fey’s arm, then climbed up and draped herself around Fey’s neck like a living fur stole.

  “Good girl.” Fey stroked her pet’s head, pulling a small treat from her bathrobe pouch to feed it to the contented ferret. “I couldn't just leave you home, could I? My Mom would never pay you proper attention, would she?”

  Fey planted an affectionate kiss on Mistletoe’s head.

  “She's a cutie,” said Maya. Then, with a quick clap of her hands, she turned back to Fey. “Alright, except for the sudden water bath, I'm here now. What's my task, boss?” she asked, giggling.

  The way Fey’s grin slowly widened, sent a cold shiver down Maya’s spine and soured her perky mood. Maya instantly knew she made a mistake coming here.

  “Customer service,” said Fey. “Lemme get your work clothes.”

  “I am not wearing that!” Maya’s yelling startled one of the Draugr holding up the curtains, making it jolt in place

  Fey groaned, “Don’t be so dramatic. Just put on the outfit!”

  “No!” Maya wailed long and loudly, frightening the smallest draugr with half a brain cover behind the one with the helmet.

  “Great, now you’ve made Halfdan cry.”

  “I don’t care!”

  “For Freyja’s sake—” Fey dragged her sharp nails down her face, careful not to smudge her mascara. She turned to the helmed Draugr. “Carl, take Halfdan and finish moving the furniture.” She next pointed to the fashionable one. “Leif, take her clothes.”

  “Wha— Don’t!”

  Too late. Maya’s hands grasped for air when Leif swiftly scooped up the clothes Maya had so precariously left on the floor, assuming she’d get to change in peace.

  “Fey, give those back!” Her naked arm lung between the curtains, but she was out of reach. She screeched in protest but to no avail.

  “You can curse and cry all you want. I ain’t returning them.”

  “No! Val, save me!”

  “No one can hear you, I’ve put a warding spell on my place. Besides,” Fey’s smirk grew,” I bet she would just love to see the outfit.”

  “You’re evil!”

  “Never said I wasn’t,” Fey laughed. “Now come out and lemme see how it looks.”

  With much grumbling and indignant cussing, Maya finished dressing up and pulled away the curtain. Fey squealed in delight and clapped her hands. “Babe, you look gorgeous.”

  “I hate you,” Maya grumbled.

  “Hush, you. I know you love it. Sexy witches are all the rage now.”

  What Fey provided Maya with was what she dubbed the ‘Sexy And Curvy Goth Witch’ ensemble.

  It was a form-fitting black dress with a daring deep V-neckline, a keyhole cutout below the bust, and dramatic, flared sleeves that reached down to her wrists. The fabric clung snugly to Maya’s figure, accentuating every curve, while the attached—but non-practical—hood and lace-patterned tights added an extra dose of witchy flair.

  To complete the look, Fey insisted on a choker—perfectly positioned to highlight the plunging neckline—and went all out with makeup.

  Instead of the usual dark and smoky tones, she worked with Maya’s deep complexion, using warm and rich hues that complemented her skin colour. A soft bronze shimmer highlighted her cheekbones and a subtle, dark kohl liner sharpened her gaze, making her angry blue eyes stand out even more. For her lips, Fey chose a bold velvety, dark plum shade.

  Now, scowling and standing before the mirror with Fey right behind her, Maya looked every bit like a begrudging witch apprentice forced to do her master’s bidding.

  “Oh, you look so biteable!” confessed Fey delightedly, clenching Maya’s jaw and pretending to bite her soft cheek. “Absolutely perfect.”

  Maya huffed, tugging at the hem of the dress in frustration. “Well, I don’t like how skimpy it is!” she cried, yanking it further down over her thighs, only for it to creep back up. “It keeps riding up my hips! Why do I have to wear this!?”

  “Customer Service,” declared Fey, conjuring another glittering rainbow with her hands.

  Thoroughly unimpressed by now, Maya fanned it away.

  “Every good business has to attract and entertain their customers. And you are perfect for the job,” Fey continued, shifting her stance. “Now, fluff up those coils, our first customer is coming.”

  “What!? Already!?”

  “I know,” Fey groaned, “that Skitst?vel insisted on a meeting today!” She stomped with her good foot, cursing in Swedish. "Moron doesn't realise witchcraft shouldn't be rushed!" Fey sighed exasperated. “Regardless,” she composed herself, “we need to hurry. The place has to look ready and scary.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  “Great! Now let’s go and—” Fey spun on her heel, but before she could take a step, Maya’s hand shot out, grabbing her sleeve.

  “Didn’t you forget something?” Maya’s voice was laced with irritation, her flushed face half red with anger, half with sheer embarrassment. She thrust out her palm, fingers twitching. “Give me back my underwear.”

  Fey blinked. Once. Twice. Then a lightbulb lit up inside her head. “Oh…oooohhhhhh… Nah, you’re good—”

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Maya lunged, grabbing Fey by her waist. “I refuse to be a nudist!”

  “Please,” Fey drawled, tilting her head back dramatically. “Underwear is just society’s way of keeping us shackled. A prison for the unwilling mind. Besides, this outfit was designed for freedom.”

  “Easy for you to say when you don’t even wear any and have a chest nearly as flat as this country!”

  “What was that?!” Fey gasped, scandalised.

  The next thing Maya knew, Fey pulled on her cheeks in retaliation and Maya pulled back on hers. Both yanked at each other’s faces, bickering like school children until Fey lost balance and fell forward.

  Fey barely had time to process before realising she landed on something soft to cushion her fall with her hand perfectly placed on Maya’s very much not-so-flat chest—again.

  A restrained groan escaped Maya. “Why do you always fall on me like that?”

  “Sorry, that was totally intentional, heh,” Fey laughed, playfully bonking on the head like she was a clumsy fool.

  Before Maya could push her off, small-sized Halfdan rushed in handing Fey a brown letter.

  Fey, entirely unbothered, made herself comfortable on Maya’s stomach and unfolded the letter. The inked letters sprang to life, floating into the air through Fey’s shimmering magic.

  “Would you mind?” wheezed Maya.

  “Hush.” Fey waved her off and continued reading. Maya groaned and accepted her fate.

  Then suddenly—“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Fey shouted, bouncing back and making Maya groan. With her staff, she tapped her sharply on the side. “Up your butt, we got work to do!”

  “What happened?”

  The floating runes dissipated into mist as Fey crumbled up the paper and slammed her staff against the ground.

  “Change of Schedule,” Fey growled. “That J?veln is coming early.”