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“You got it?” the girl asked expectantly.
“Aye, I found something that should be appropriate, I hope.” The small cloaked figure rummaged around in a dirty sack at his feet and with a gleeful crackle produced a book from it, a very abused-looking book with a ragged hole right in the middle. “His former diary, but all his enchantments have left it.”
“That is of no worry, I don't need it for any enchantments on it.” She took the book from his hands and flipped through its empty pages lazily for a second.
“Could you light the candles for me, please?” She asked. “You can watch but please keep it quiet.” Then she started her chant, eyes glued to the spellbook in front of her.
The sudden stop in the ubiquituous chanting woke him up again and he watched the girl put the spellbook away and extinguish the candles.
“And? What happens now?”
“Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, “sore throat.” Then she dashed out the door and he heard the door of the refrigerator. She came back, sucking on some kind of milk-shake or so.
“All finished, now we wait.” She took the former diary off the floor and he could see the edges of the pages crumble to dust. “The Bloodstone Vengeance Spell drains away their strength. The victim's getting weaker, feverish, ill, it takes some time. With a normal witch I wouldn't even try it, about everyone knows how to counter it. But these people, they don't even seem to know basic magical economy. Once together stays connected...”