Page 21 of Problematic

“What the fuck,” I whispered.

I knew basic wards. Everyone did. Little chalk marks over windows. Salt-thread stickers on cheap apartment doors. Paper charms sold at corner stores by witches with acrylic nails and no refund policies. This was not basic.

This had layers. Intent folded within intent, power sealed in curves and hooked ends. A watcher spell, maybe. Protection with a real punch. It was complex and expensive as hell.

Something that promised danger would regret coming in.

I looked down the hall.

Same peeling paint. Same narrow carpet that smelled like dust and old cigarette smoke. Mrs. Delora’s doormat still read WELCOME TO HELL in cheerful pink letters. The neighbor’s bike still hung chained to the rail with one wheel missing.

My pulse beat too hard.

Someone had stood here while I slept.

Someone had touched my door.

Someone with enough power to carve a ward straight into the wood without chalk, blood, ink, or preparation. Most demons needed tools for work this precise.

Sam’s fire could scorch through the frame or feed an existing ward if she concentrated hard enough, though subtlety had never been her spiritual gift. She couldn’t press raw magic into old wood and leave the lines this clean, this stable.

Whoever made this had control.

The expensive kind.

The kind powerful demons inherited, trained for, or killed people to master.

I stepped closer, then stopped before my fingers touched the symbol. Every survival instinct in my body sat up and screamed in business casual.

“Nope,” I said softly. “We do not poke mystery magic before breakfast.”

My brain produced a list of possibilities because my brain hated me.

One, the landlord finally bought an actual ward instead of pretending the old one counted as protection.

Two, some bored witch in the building decided my door needed an upgrade.

Three, someone powerful had a reason to care whether anything got through my door.

I hated three.

Three made no sense whatsoever.

I pulled my phone out and snapped a picture. The first one was blurry because my hand was shaking. I took another, sharper this time, and sent it to Sam.

Liv: Weird question but did you do this?

The three dots popped up before I could decide to step into the hallway.

Sam: Bitch what is that?

Liv: That’s what I’m asking you

Sam: No I didn’t do satanic home improvement at 3am.

Sam: I was busy sleeping with my extremely hot mate remember.

Liv: You are the only witch-adjacent friend I have