Chapter 5
Unraveling a Witch
FYNN
As I turn around on the firm mattress, pulling the soft, warm blanket around me, I notice the empty beds next to me.
Both of them are empty. I’m instantly up and look around the dimly lit room.
The beds are neatly made, almost as if neither of them had slept there.
I curse internally. Damn Harlot. The moment Mother lifted herself from the bed, I am sure Harlot tiptoed right after her without Mother even noticing her presence.
I’m so done with her antics; she can save herself for once.
I hope she gets killed so I don’t have to do it.
I lie back down and try to fall back asleep, but the idea of my sister wandering around in this forsaken city filled to the brim with bloodsuckers and blood-wielders makes me uncomfortably anxious.
I twist and turn, forcing myself to keep my eyes closed, but the thoughts consume me.
If someone ends her life, it should be me, not some fucking vampire or witch.
I shake off the image as quickly as it comes: I do not want my sister dead, especially not at my hands.
I repeat the sentence over and over in my head and grumble as I throw off the blanket and sit upright.
I massage my temples to fend off the oncoming headache my sister bestows upon me as my stomach growls from the hunger.
I wonder where we can eat; Mother didn’t say a word about that.
I did see food on some of the carts in the square.
I guess the witches eat regular food as well.
I see a pile of coins at the side of my bed and a little note scribbled by Mother.
Apparently, this inn caters to human needs as well.
I shower quickly, pull on fresh clothes, and saunter downstairs.
It’s not as busy as it was yesterday, but there is still a steady stream of clientele.
I go to the bar to ask about the food and something to drink, but the girl behind the counter waves me off and tells me to keep my distance.
She’s gorgeous; from what I can see, her skin is covered in markings of Belladonna flowers and berries.
I can’t help myself as I ask her curiously if the markings have any meaning; in return, she tells me to stay away from her, her voice cold and distant.
She continues telling me that the markings will lash out and try to kill me despite the revolting magic that lingers around me.
Her dismissive answer and the disgust on her face, as she eyes me wearily, causes me to abhor the magic for the first time.
Her answer reveals that she is a witch, one of the dark creatures.
I’ve never been drawn to a witch before or even had an interest in them.
I despise them, but she’s gorgeous, even though she’s a Blood Witch, and I can’t help but be mesmerized.
I feel a desire to get to know her and learn more about her.
Learn everything there is to know. I lean into her and open my mouth to convince her to speak to me, as she scrunches her nose at me and starts talking.
“I don’t know what you just did, but you smell much more pleasant now,” she hesitates, “I’m Caria… what’s your name, human?”
I take her in; her wavy red hair follows her every movement, and her flecked golden eyes watch me cautiously. Her movement is elegant, unlike anything I have ever seen before.
“Caria, that’s a beautiful name for such a beautiful… wi-woman. My name is Fynnigan, but I go by Fynn. A pleasure to meet you.”
I don’t extend my hand to her, the memory of the molten skin on the female vampire still fresh in the back of my mind. I have no intention to hurt this gorgeous creature.
“And no problem with the magic,” I say quickly, pretending to understand what she meant.
I give her a smirk. She returns me a small smile, her plump lips drawing my attention. I stare at her mouth as she speaks.
“An interesting name, Fynnigan… Fynn.” She says my name as if she can taste it, “an interesting name for an interesting human. I’ll have your food and drinks served.”
Then she disappears behind a thick black curtain, which probably leads to a kitchen.
I sit down near some other witches. One of them pulls up her lips in distaste, an evident sign that the magic has not dissipated, fortunately.
I shrug and warily glance around, taking in my surroundings.
The curtains covering the windows are still pulled taut; not an ounce of daylight is allowed in.
The smell of fried bacon and eggs fills my nostrils, accompanied by toasted bread, and a plate appears in front of me, together with two jugs.
One filled with water and the other with fresh milk.
Caria gives me a wink as she looks at me sultrily, then attends to another customer.
I feel my cheeks reddening at her attention, and I remind myself she’s a fucking Blood Witch, regardless of how beautiful she is, yet I stare at her, following her movement.
Blood Witch or not, I wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to her if only I knew for sure she would not drain me of my blood to use in some of her coven's stupid rituals.
Or that I would not burn her to death before we could even finish the act.
Suddenly irritated that I might remain a virgin forever thanks to my mother and this dense magic hovering around me, I stick the food into my mouth and start to chew aggressively.
Caria seems to flirt with me from a distance while I eat, making it clear she doesn’t trust me either, but definitely finds me interesting.
I welcome the attention, even if she’s a Blood Witch.
It’s my first sort of interaction with a female that’s not my mother or my sister.
Mother makes sure of that. When the food is gone, I get up, ready to search for my sister.
Instead, I use my idiotic sister as an excuse to talk to Caria more.
“Hey, pretty witch,” I say.
She turns her head at me, crinkling her nose once more.
“You reek again, pretty boy,” she counters.
“Sorry about that. I’ll try to keep my distance from you,” I smirk.
I'm unsure why the magic appears stronger again and is so off-putting to her sense of smell.
“Have you perhaps seen my sister sneak out of here? She’s about 1.60 in height. She has a small but strong frame, long black hair, light gray eyes, and pale skin.”
I look at her expectantly, hoping she has seen the little rat sneaking out.
“So, a short female replica of you? Is she your twin?” she asks curiously.
“Hmm, yes, and yes.”
“What will you give me, human, in return for that information? What can you offer me?” She grins at me.
I only notice now that her markings are imprinted on her skin, almost like tattoos, and layered above in shadows. She catches me staring.
“It shows other witches to which coven I belong, and it serves as a warning not to mess with me, as I belong to the deadliest one,” she explains without my asking.
Her shadows curl around her body as if to add more weight to her message. I swallow.
“Clear, witch.”
I raise my hands in defense, and she starts to laugh loudly. Her laughter fills my ears like a musical melody.
“Please, Fynn, I have no reason to hurt you. I was just playing with you. Yes, I saw your sister leave this morning—hours ago. She spoke briefly to a male vampire, but he is already gone. I think she asked for directions to The Silent Fortress, although I have no idea why she would want to go there. I’m unsure if even the magic you wield is strong enough to protect her there. ”
She shrugs.
“Good luck if you go there to find her. I heard rumors that the woods there have a mind of their own, only allowing passage if they want you to.”
I do not miss the flicker of fear appearing in Caria’s eyes when she mentions the fortress and its surrounding forest. I curse Harlot once more; she’s always up to some shit.
Where did she even get the idea to hunt some fortress in an area she’s never been to before?
Ignoring Caria’s warning, I ask her for general directions and head out.
She makes me promise to stay safe, and a strange flutter appears in my stomach.
I see a group of humans when I leave the inn and get to the square.
Their eyes are large with fear and not glazed, an indication that they are not owned or compelled.
Anxiously, they look around as they clatter together.
Why are these humans here in Valorya? What are these idiots doing here in a vampire-infested city?
I see vampires flocking around them, coming near them, drawn to the fresh blood like a moth to a flame.
Seeing them up close with the humans, it hits me that they have no protection at all.
I look around me, anything to help them, but all I see are more and more hungry vampires crawling toward the center of the square, the group of humans standing there, nailed to the ground, their terror evident.
Blood suckers circle around them, taunting them like a pack of hungry wolves. Even with the vast blood supply, the thrill of finding helpless victims seems instilled in their nature—a natural instinct kicking in.
“Where did this delicious lot come from?” One of the vampires asks no one in particular as he comes closer. His presence is enough to make some of the younger ones cry.
“Whispers of a better life offered here in this city filled our minds. We were told to come here,” a young blonde girl whispers in a trembling voice, barely audible.
She presses her shivering body against an older woman, likely her mother, her small hands clasping the fabric of the woman’s flowing skirt.
Cackling erupts from the now large gathering of bloodsuckers. There seems to be a hesitance among them, almost as if they are unsure if this buffet is truly in front of them.
“Is that so? You lot coming here out of free will makes our lives better, at least for today,” one of them muses.