A thrilling introduction to the dark mystical world of Melanie ‘Breaker’ Perkiss, Buffalo NY’s most capable witch hunter and spell lifter.
In this debut instalment, a dark mage acting on behalf of a vengeful ex has magically removed the genitals of a man and vanished, leaving him wiped clean down there. And unfortunately for the victim, he is set to wed…now imagine saying ‘I do’ while in that deprived state.
No wonder when a shell-shocked and heartbroken Casey walks into Melanie’s office to report the incident, the witch hunter immediately goes on a chase, risking her own life as she encounters dark creatures and malevolent spirits in the city’s darkest corners.
The pressure is indeed on Mel: the wedding is fast approaching and leads remain few. Will she be able to corner the mage, recover the taken goods and save a doomed marriage, while bringing the conspirators to justice?
In comes a chubbyish man, probably around twenty-eight, which incidentally is
my age. He wears a gray long-sleeve shirt and black jeans. His face is flushed, brow
sweating, and eyes bloodshot. The most striking thing is he walks uneasily with his
hands covering his groin.
I stand up to greet him. “Casey McLong, I presume. Come on and take a seat.”
“You must be The Breaker.” He lifts one hand from his groin and accepts my
“I am Melanie Perkiss, but just call me Mel,” I say.
Still fearful his bladder could be full, I watch carefully how he will sit. Seriously,
evil witches’ spells can cause just about anything.
Casey slumps onto the chair. He is distressed but not in real physical pain, and
that gladdens me, but only slightly.
“So, tell me what happened?”
“I just woke up this morning.” His breath hitches. “And I went to pee, then to my
utter horror…” He leans the elbow of one arm on my table and starts to massage his
“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to say exactly. Did you pee, though?”
“Yes, I did, but through a tiny fibrous thing left.”
Dear Jesus, what a problem. “Uh, did you try a clinic?” I say, even though I know
doctors can’t help victims of magic. If his organs have vanished for sure, no amount of
X-raying or ultrasound scanning will bring them back.
“Didn’t see the need.” He swallows hard. “What could an MD possibly do? Patch
me up with a donation?”
I smile wryly. I have once heard of donated genitals, but still wonder how an
operation to patch them on could work out. Honestly, it’s a stretch.
“You want me to show you?” He motions at his pants.
That, in fact, was what I was coming to. “Yes, please,” I say.
Checking for myself would help prove that said organs were really missing rather
than just invisible. “The restroom is off a corridor to the back. Is that where you prefer?
We could go together.”
My office is not outfitted for seminude examinations. I have my inoperable
window blinds almost fully open to confirm.
Casey searches around, as if to satisfy himself that there is no one else in the
office. I figure ensuring his full privacy in the confines of a washroom is not among his
“Let me just lock, then,” I say as I see him reach for his belt.
I dart to the door and click the bolt, then come back. “Okay, show me.”
He unclasps his belt, pulls down his fly, then lets his pants open into a wide V.
He wears a pair of white Calvin Klein underpants with an orange waistband. There is
nothing there underneath when they go down, too.
“Oh my God.’’ I clutch my chin. This can’t be possible. This man is completely
ruined. How could he ever live like that? It’s ugly. UGLY, UGLY, UGLY.
It's been a while, and Casey still stands before me with his pants down. I’m too
stunned to tell him to zip up.
Seriously, I hate to see anguish on people’s faces—my clients’ even more. It
causes the spirits within me to roil, plunging me into a sea of depression. I sometimes
catch myself having to hold back tears, and right now, I have no idea what to do to bring
an immediate smile to this guy’s face.
Anyway, it won’t help to grieve. Something must be worked out, and my mind
jumps into gear.
“Right, dress up,” I say, but calmly, “and take your seat.”
As he does that, something I hadn’t noticed flashes into my eyes. It’s uncommon
among men, but this guy is different: he sports a gold band on his finger!
A more feminine part of me wants to ask, but I know I mustn’t pry. Even so, I still
blurt, “Oh, you got that.”
A sharp stab mars Casey's face. “Engaged,” he mutters. “Wedding, this Sunday.”
Now I get why this whole thing is killing him more. This problem shouldn’t have
occurred when he was looking forward to such a blissful time. I try to imagine something
like it happening to my boyfriend. That would be like the world coming to an end for us,
and I don’t know if I could recover from such a crisis…