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Hexed was one of Crown Ridge’s premier occult shops. Though the proprietor of the shop, Lindsey Walsh, didn’t actually believe in the occult herself, she saw that there was a real opportunity to cash in on the superstitions of others. With the help of some cheap costume jewelry and a Gypsy costume that she purchased from a local theater group’s surplus warehouse, she brought to life her new alter ego, Madame Ravenfeather. From her shop, she sold wands and chalices, herbs and ready made spells. If it had an occult feel to it, and she felt that she could make money from it, it could be found within the walls of Hexed. 

In the back corner of the shop, Chrissy Jones sat in her booth, which was concealed by a heavy royal purple curtain. It was from this booth that she gave psychic readings to those who were looking for answers to their problems from an alternative source. More often than not, they were not really looking to know what the future holds for them. Sometimes they were not even really looking for answers at all; instead they were looking to be told what they wanted to hear, to find comfort in a situation that they really have no control over. 
Across from Chrissy sat Sally Simmons, a portly woman in her early fifties who simply radiated grief. As an empath, Chrissy felt the woman’s sadness like a punch in the gut. It was a profound sorrow that could only accompany a great loss. Using the woman’s grief as a guide, she had been able to confirm that it was the death of a loved one, and through her conversation with the woman she learned that the source of her sorrow was the death of her 22 year old daughter, who had passed away in a car accident on her way home from college. Sally’s daughter, Beth had been on her way home for summer break from Boston University when her car was t-boned in an intersection by a teenage girl who was sending a text message and ran a red light. 

“I feel that Beth is at peace.” Chrissy said as she took Sally’s hands in hers. “Though she is gone from this plane, she is not gone. It may sound cliché, but she lives on in you. And though there will always be a void that you won’t ever be able to fill, it will get easier. Beth will always be with you, nothing, not even death will ever be able to change the bond that you have.” As she finished speaking, Chrissy closed her eyes and began to concentrate, not only was she able to feel people’s emotions, but she could , in a way, control them. She could take on the emotions of others and replace them with different emotions. In this case, she took some of Sally’s sorrow onto herself. Not all of the sadness, because she felt that it was unfair to rob the woman of the opportunity for closure. So instead she just took away some of the pain, and replaced it with a sense of serenity. It didn’t take away all the pain, or even most of it. However, it was enough to make it somewhat bearable, and Chrissy could immediately feel the change in the woman, and in herself as she took on the woman’s suffering as if it were her own. Although it was a temporary side effect of Chrissy’s powers, she felt a very real sense of loss, and truly understood what Sally had been suffering through. 

Then with the sound of squealing tires and car doors slamming shut, Chrissy felt another set of emotions entirely:

[b][I]Fear.

Hatred.

Anger.[/I][/b]

Suddenly, the front door of Hexed exploded inward, sending glass and wood flying into the shop like shrapnel. Fortunately for Chrissy and her client, the heavy curtain protected them from the flying debris. Chrissy pulled back the curtain just enough to peak out into the store, and saw what looked like nearly a dozen men dressed in head to toe black body armor and wielding heavy firepower. It was upon seeing the men storming Hexed that she realized that the day that she dreaded had finally arrived.

The Hounds of Humanity had come for her.

“Stay down.” She whispered to Sally as she stepped out from behind the curtain, anger and fear gripping her as she went to face the men that had been terrorizing the meta human and supernatural communities for these last few days.

As she stepped from behind the curtain, the Hounds turned their attention to her, training their weapons on Chrissy. However, before they were able to pull the triggers, a large oak table that had a number of stones, gems and herbs displayed upon it suddenly lurched forward, colliding with several of the jackboots which send them crashing into the wall. With the remaining Hounds still distracted, Chrissy bound toward one of the men, who saw her just in time to turn his weapon back on her. However, she grabbed the muzzle of the gun and bent it back and upward, rendering it unusable. Then she hit the thug with a knife edged chop to the throat which brought the man to his knees. 
Suddenly, the sounds of something falling caught Chrissy’s attention, as well as the attention of the Hounds. Sally Simmons, who had remained hidden behind the curtain couldn’t sit still any longer, and in a panic attempted to flee. However, in the process she had tripped and fallen into the curtain, pulling it down off of the curtain rod that kept it in place, bringing the wooden rod along with the curtain, and herself crashing to the floor with a thud. The Hounds turned their weapons on her and opened fire, just as Chrissy raced over to where she sat on the floor and dived at her. As she made contact with Sally, the older woman felt a sudden sense of vertigo as she and Chrissy simply vanished just as the bullets struck the patch of floor that Sally had just occupied seconds before. 

When Sally opened her eyes, she wasn’t able to suppress the urge to vomit, and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the sidewalk where she now found herself kneeling. She looked around, and realized that she was familiar with the area in which she now found herself, but was baffled as to how she had wound up on Atlantic Avenue, as “The Strip” as it was also know was more than a dozen blocks away. Then Sally began to look around for Chrissy, who was nowhere to be found. So she just sat there for a moment, trying to gather her bearings, and as she did so, she could have sworn that she could hear the sound of footsteps, clearly belonging to a woman running away.