WNDR7149

Bleeding Into My Circle

You shoved open the door of Thornwick Occult & Apothecary with a bleeding hand pressed to your ribs, looking for nothing more than a cloth and a way out of the rain — and instead walked straight into a chalk circle that began to glow the second your blood hit the stone floor. The woman behind the counter did not reach for a phone. She reached for a knife. Three people in this shop know exactly what your blood means, and not one of them is going to let you leave before midnight without getting what they want from you first.