Killian’s house could be described in many ways, but tidy was certainly not one of them. Pigments, canvases, and various parchments were strewn chaotically across every surface, as well as open sketchbooks chock full of anatomy studies that were left on the couch and the table. She counted at least ten unfinished paintings hanging from the living room’s ceiling and another five in the kitchen, plus a rough sketch of the Queen’s likeness on a large canvas that was probably supposed to become her portrait. The beautiful stained-glass windows that Evita had always admired, were covered in splatters of paint and what she imagined to be blood, or red dye. One could never really know when Killian was involved. The green couch she eyed as a place to rest on, still hanging onto Killian, seemed to have lost the grand battle against clutter: it was drowning in countless rolled parchments and dusty, old tomes that belonged to the adjacent wooden bookcase and had been misplaced.
“Ah, sorry. Let me.” He said, grabbing the mess by the armfuls and positioning it onto the nearby table, which was sadly already dealing with its own unclear agglomeration of knickknacks. “Alright, lie down now, yes… careful. Don’t push yourself. Humans are so fragile.”
“I’m not made of glass, you know. I’m fine.” She said, sighing. The couch was really comfy, though, and her muscles and bones were aching so badly. She knew that she desperately needed some rest.
He looked aggravated, “Fine? You passed out back there after you made an ancient magical artifact explode! I wouldn’t call that fine. What happened?”
Evita bit her lip and thought carefully about what to say, since she still had to metabolize the previous events. “I had a vision. Or a dream. I’m not sure. Killian, I- I opened the lighthouse. It was me. It’s all my fault.”
“Look, you’re going to have to start being more specific. Is it possible the amulet’s magic finally, I don’t know, ran out? It might have been just a terrible coincidence.”
“No.” She shook her head, “I spoke to someone. It’s all tied to the Great War, apparently, and I am the key to everything.”
“God, I can’t be friends with another chosen one. Not again.”
“Could you be serious for a second? What should I do? I opened a cursed building that’s been sealed for centuries!”
Killian waved her off, which made her bristle. He was so annoying. “Calm down, nobody saw us walk up there. If someone asks you about it, you play dumb. The lighthouse opened up on its own and you know absolutely nothing about it, but you’d be very happy to help in the investigation.”
“You want me to lie?!”
“Of course I want you to lie, you idiotic woman. The alternative is to be arrested and tried before the Queen.” He hissed at her. Evita could see his fangs poking out from his gums and her body shivered in response. Even if she knew perfectly well that Killian would never hurt her, not even in a million years, vampires still evoked some sort of primal fear in humans. She had read in a book, once, that they had evolved specifically to catch prey. Most of them tended to be charming and smart and caring, like Killian, for that exact reason. Humans, on the other hand, had evolved because they liked to form pack bonds with everything that breathed. In other words, to be the perfect prey. Breathing was a category that thankfully didn’t include vampires, although frankly, if one found themselves close enough to notice, it was already much too late for them.
“And anyway, I got rid of the proof.” He continued.
She blinked in confusion, “What do you mean?”
Killian fished into his pockets for a moment before handing her the two halves of the cursed medallion. Evita felt like she was going to have a stroke very soon.
“This is not getting rid of the proof; this is incriminating ourselves! Getting rid of the proof means throwing this blasted thing off the damn cliff, not taking it home with us!”
“Have I ever told you that your voice gets super shrill when you’re angry? It’s extremely annoying.”
“Killian. Killian. Listen to me.” She massaged her temples, feeling a slight headache coming in. She longed for her bed. “You are telling me that after I probably unleashed another plague or opened a portal to Hell that will consequently kill us all, instead of destroying the evidence, you decided to carry it home with you. Because that is a very smart thing to do that will not get me executed.”
He huffed, severely put out by her antics. “I thought you might want it. I know you have a lot of illegal magic stuff in that basement of yours.”
“You’ve been in my basement? When?”
“That’s not the point. Come on, take it.” he said.
“I don’t want to touch it!”
“Why not? It’s dead. Touch it.”
“No. I’m not touching it. Nu-uh.”
Killian ignored her protests, you know, like a gentleman, and he settled the medallion on her lap. Evita squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to be thrown into another dream-like vision. But nothing happened.
“See? I told you.”
“You’re terrible.” She said and then paused while they stared at each other for a second. She couldn’t really stay mad at him. There was something about the reptile-like, slow-blinking thing he had going on that just made her want to squeeze him. That was probably the pack bond thing she had read about. “Thank you for keeping your cool back there, though. It must’ve been terrifying.”
“You fainted and then I heard a bang, it really wasn’t that scary. I watched a man choke another man with his entrails once, so that was pretty tame in comparison.”
“I seriously do not know how to respond to that.” She said, disgusted, “Don’t minimize the situation. We could get arrested if they find out we have this thing! Let alone if they found out we opened the lighthouse!”
“We? You have the thing.”
She gasped in outrage, “You stole it, not me!”
“I did it on your behalf and you opened the damn lighthouse in the first place! It’s your responsibility! Just hide it with the rest of the cursed stuff you have in the basement and you’ll be fine, it doesn’t really have a magical signature anymore, right?”
“Uh. Good point.” She said, picking one half of the medallion up with two fingers. Just from looking at it, Evita could see that it was made of pure gold, a perfectly circular disk a lot bigger than her palm and quite heavy for its size. The engraving was peculiar, too: two snakes interwoven with one another, their tiny heads and red eyes (rubies?) seemed to be looking at her directly. She had never seen anything like it before. Was it a family emblem of some sort? She noticed that, by breaking into two perfect halves, the snakes had ultimately gotten separated from their original position. It was a curious thing, indeed.
“I think this was an alarm system.” She told Killian, who appeared to have busied himself in the cluttered mess that was once supposed to be a kitchen. “It seems like the snakes could look at whoever or whatever would be trespassing and, I don’t know? Make them pass out, you said? Which means that it’s not a malicious enchantment. Just… a deterrent, perhaps?” She twisted the broken thing in her hands, looking for something. A hint. She would’ve even welcomed another freaky visit to freaky dreamland.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The vampire made a noncommittal noise, signaling to her that he was listening but was too busy to respond.
“Have you ever met a woman named Rowena?” she asked, tentatively. “You’re pretty ancient, so I figured… she died centuries ago, maybe not?”
Killian’s white head poked out from the kitchen. He was holding two mugs. “I don’t think so, why?” he said, handing her one. “Whoops, sorry. Blood. That’s mine.”
Taking a sip out of the other mug, thankfully full of chamomile tea and not blood, she continued. “She was in my vision, something about a dormant pocket dimension… Like the goblin market? She said she was my ancestor and that she’s dead now.”
“Not that dead if she spoke to you.”
“No, she said it wasn’t really her. Just a version of her stuck in time and then thrown into a pocket dimension. It’s very advanced magic and not very… legal, but she said she was waiting for me, so she must’ve had a good reason.”
He shrugged, “I’d personally take a look into your aunt’s basement, then. The house used to belong to other witches prior to her and let me tell you, she was the least unhinged of the list. I don’t think any of them were part of your family, but you know… it might be a good place to start.”
Evita nodded, lost in thought. She hadn’t really gone downstairs into the basement again after the day she moved into the house. The colonies of rats and spiders had been entirely too much for her and she was extremely sure that Allegra had decided to keep them as pets, that’s why there were so many of them. But, from what she remembered, what she called a basement was actually one large hall filled with bookcases, cabinets, chests, tables and magical trinkets everywhere. It was, more than the basement of a townhouse, a dusty landfill where magic went unchecked. The big, ornate, mirror hung on the wall right in front of the stairs had said great, another spinster witch in my house. When will my suffering end? the moment she entered the room. It was, understandably, an experience she didn’t want to repeat.
But she also couldn’t stop thinking about what Rowena, or more accurately, what her shadow had said. Something about the woods? What was in the woods, other than-
“The hut!” she exclaimed. Killian looked startled, but she continued. “The woman, Rowena, was about to tell me something about the woods before the vision ended. My aunt left me her hut, which is, coincidentally, in the woods!”
“Uh. You still haven’t checked that out?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve been meaning to, but I’ve been so busy with the shop and the renovations and then remember when we had that dwarven flu outbreak? But it doesn’t matter! It’s the hut! I have to go there!”
“There are rumors about it.” Killian said, finishing his blood. Evita always found it extremely disgusting. His tongue snaked out to lick a runaway drop of blood and she shivered.
“What rumors?”
“Allegra was a strange woman. But you know that already. She died in that very hut, but nobody ever found her body when they went looking for it to give her a proper burial. I mean, people believe that she didn’t really stick with classic, harmless magic… she did dangerous things.”
“I guess you’ll be coming with me, then. For protection.”
“What?! No! Evita, I’m already undead and I have no intention of removing that prefix anytime soon!”
Evita laughed and sat up, her back muscles screaming at her to lay back down. But she couldn’t. She had work to do.
“I have a plan.” She said, grabbing the broken amulet and sticking it into her pocket. She thought she felt it hum for a second. “I’m going to go home and grab a few things. Then, I’m going to go into the woods and look for the hut.”
“That’s suicidal.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come? It could be fun. We might meet a fairy or two.”
Killian blanched, “F-fairies? Hard pass. I heard some of them are still looking for me after I stole one of their precious golden apples centuries ago. Speaking of which-”
“Nope. You’re on your own. I’m going to go, thanks for the tea. And for the help, too.”
Evita stood up and fixed the creases on her gown with a snap of her fingers. She was tired but at the same time, her spirit felt reinvigorated. The unsealing of the lighthouse might have been her fault, but she was certain she could fix it. And either way, what was the worst that could happen? She had it under control. Better than that, she already knew where to start: hut first, basement later. The witch really wasn’t looking forward to the second part of the plan, but she would have had to step foot in it eventually. She was better off doing it now before the rats decided to expand the colony to her kitchen.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright going home on your own? I could walk with you.” Killian offered, accompanying her to the door. A quick glance at the sky told her that it was almost nine. She mentally apologized to Mrs. Yarrow and her weirdly shaped stomach: fixing her mess and preventing the end of the world had to come first.
“I only feel a bit sleepy, but I promise I will rest later. Have a good one.”
And with that, she was off. The walk to her house was a short one, not only because of the small distance that separated her home and Killian’s, but also because she was in a rush. The weight of the broken medallion in her pocket made her feel guilty, yes, but it also filled her with determination and purpose. She listened attentively to the people around her, bustling and busy like bees, although she had to brush some of her frequent patrons off when they came over to greet her: she didn’t have time to chat. But the overall mood, she was glad to see, seemed to be a positive one. That meant that nobody had noticed that the lighthouse had been opened, which was doubly good because one, no plague or curse yet, and two, she had time to fix it before anyone found out.
Evita was feeling very optimistic. Sure, she might have unleashed the devil upon the land, but what witch hadn’t? Mistakes during her career were bound to happen, this was just a temporary setback and anyhow, she was going to fix it. Her happy mood reinvigorated her.
Well, up until she arrived home, at least. The door was ajar. She remembered to have locked it very, very carefully, as she always did. Evita was methodical. This wasn’t her mistake.
Burglar, she thought. In Cliff’s Drop? Where people left their doors open and everyone was always welcome? Not on her watch.
Armed with her magic and overall rage and fury at being slowed down while busy with such a delicate matter, she went inside, shooting a quick charm to the door to stop it from creaking. She really had to oil those hinges, one of those days.
She listened for any movements quietly, holding her breath to avoid freaking out the intruder and causing them to leave before she could put her hands on them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a quill that she had left on the table move and point towards the stairs. She felt so grateful for her magic house; it truly was a cheap yet great alarm system.
The thief was in her bedroom.. She was so glad that the Adler training had educated her so much on torture. She really should’ve appreciated her tutors more; strict as they may have been, it was only thanks to them that she knew how to freeze someone’s blood from the inside to avoid spillage. Evita had no intention to ruin her new carpets.
Casting a quick silencing enchantment on herself, she slowly went up, hoping that her traitorous stairs deemed it fit to not be as traitorous and avoid making any squeaking sounds this time. She heard shuffling sounds coming from her room and her pace quickened, hoping to catch the burglar red-handed. After a moment, she found herself standing on the threshold of her bedroom door.
The rude stranger from the other night was rifling through her things. At least she was wearing gloves. Small mercies.
Anyway, the bedroom was a mess. All of the drawers were open, her clothes and personal effects strewn across the floor. Even her correspondence had been messed with and her poor books had been thrown on the ground with no care for their wellbeing. The stranger had even thrown the covers and pillows off her bed, leaving the mattress all askew for good measure. She watched, with a pang, as her tarot cards trembled in fear on the windowsill, hiding from the stranger’s heavy handed movements. Oh, she would have so much fun with her.
But she figured that shouldn’t get ahead of herself, therefore she decided to summon all of her patience and diplomacy training before she spoke. You catch more flies with honey and all that, right? “Put your hands up and turn around before I turn you into a fish and eat you for dinner.”
The woman stopped her disrespectful ministrations but stayed put. The witch considered repeating herself, until the stranger started moving her hands upwards. “Good.” She said, “I guess you can follow-”
A small blade flew past Evita, dangerously close to her ear, before lodging itself into the wooden wall. She gulped nervously, but her eyes remained cold and steely. “You missed.”
“I never miss.” Responded the stranger, before dutifully putting her hands up and not moving. A small, slight smile danced on her lips. Did she only do that to show that she could? Did she not know what Evita was capable of?
Her headache from before started coming in stronger than ever, as well as the rage and the fury. “Why did you- Never mind. Tell me why I shouldn’t murder you. I’ll listen, maybe.”
The woman, still clad in her black leathers, smiled the same charming smile that did Evita in the other night, and opened her mouth to speak. But Evita was not going to fall for that trick again, bouncy curls and dimples be damned.
“I hope for your sake you’re about to tell me the truth.” She said, menacingly. Her tone of voice was perfectly calm, almost disinterested, but she really wasn’t about to be fooled twice by the same criminal. She was better than that. “Because I can make you bleed in a lot of very, very painful ways. And believe me, I’ll make sure nobody hears you when you scream.” Her hands crackled with blue electricity and sparks flew everywhere, singing the carpet. The witch watched, pleased, as the stranger paled, throat bobbing when she swallowed nervously. The woman’s shoulders sagged in defeat and Evita almost lowered her hands. But her mouth tightened into a hard line. She stared at Evita defiantly and the witch thought for a second that the stranger was simply going to avoid saying anything. But she did. Infuriatingly so.
“I guess we’ll chat, witch.”
