NIGHTS OF HALLOW

In another part of one of the buildings, Sthena, still inside the room, went from one corner of the room to the other as he inspected the vials arrayed on a long table.

At another corner of the room were heads cut out from the rest of its body. Some looked as though magic were used on them, while others looked decayed and more rotten.

He strode to that side of the table, examining the state of each head, noting how pale and scaly the ones touched with magic appeared. He clicked his tongue, trying to decipher the intention of the witches.

Moving away, Sthena went towards a large cupboard he drew open with a click. Scanning from upwards downwards, his hand stopping at the top of an open sack.

”Pills,” he murmured as he brought one to his nose. ”Blood pills,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he recognized them. These were the same pills Perdita and Marco were taking back in Woodbridge village. If these pills are in the possession of the witches, then Vetis was undoubtedly working with them. Or were they the ones producing them and supplying them to Vetis?

Vials, heads, and then blood pills? For what purpose? He asked himself, racking his brain on what was going on with the things he found.

As he stood thinking, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Perdita walk into the room towards him.

”Did you see anything?” She asked, now standing beside him, to which Sthena nodded to her question, saying,

”The witches do have interesting things to look at.” Turning fully to face her, he quizzed, ”You seem fine stepping into the room. I thought you preferred staying outside?”

”Oh, about that,” Perdita shrugged. ”I thought it would be better to stay near you than out there alone.”

”Scared?” Sthena tilted his head, amusement in his eyes, carefully watching her.

”Of course not, Your majes...I mean Sthena,” she quickly corrected on seeing the subtle narrowed look on Sthena’s face. She let out a small, quiet laugh and hooked her arm on Sthena’s. ”With you here, I am not afraid of anything.” She smiled at him.

”How foolish of you not to be,” Sthena stated, taking Perdita by surprise.

Perdita’s arm around Sthenas loosened its hold, her lips pursing. ”Why? Did I do something wrong?”

”How brave,” Sthena dryly commented, taking hold of Perdita’s hair in a tight grip, and she let out a loud wince, her face twisted in the pain shooting through her scalp.

”Sth-sthena, you are hurting me, please,” Perdita cried out, but instead, Sthena’s hold tightened more than it was before.

He pulled her hair such that her face was angled upwards, his voice menacingly low. ”The nerve of you to stand with this face beside me. Must be stupid.”

”Wait! No, I am not a—” But Sthena did not waste another second in tearing her head off her neck, and her body fell with a thud to the ground.

Still holding the head, Sthena placed his hand on the face to have the original face of the witch return. He then proceeded to place it on the table where the other heads were on the table.

Taking his handkerchief, he cleaned his finger where the blood of the witcher posing as Perdita had smeared. These witches must be undermining him to pull such a stupid stunt with him. Sthena clicked his tongue, feeling rage simmering within at the thought of losing Perdita.

Stepping out of the room, Sthena’s gaze intently searched outside, and just like he had thought, Perdita was nowhere to be found. He ran his tongue along his fangs, drawing blood as the anger continued to simmer in his veins, and half the time blaming himself for missing out on Perdita as he went in search of her.

On the other side, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed loudly as Perdita rounded yet another corridor, making it the third round, and each time, to her dismay and frustration, she still ended up in the same hall where she found those bodies lying on the ground.

”Oh, dear me!” She exclaimed, pulling her hair as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She could hear her heart pound more quickly with each second she spent in the building, not knowing where Sthena was. Perhaps he would soon notice she was gone and come find her.

”What in the world is happening?” Perdita muttered, squatting on her heels, the feeling of helplessness bringing down the resolve to find a way out.

What was she to do now? She had tried using magic to find her way, but nothing was working, as she still ended up in the same place each time.

Could there be a hidden door somewhere, or perhaps she wasn’t using the right magic to make this work? Either way, she wasn’t going to stay locked up. Perdita thought to herself, abruptly standing to her feet.

”I’ll start by moving these bodies. There must be a way out of this. There must be some lock somewhere to escape this sickening maze she found herself in. How naive she had been not to recognize Sthena at a glance, else she wouldn’t have found herself in this predicament. She thought, staring at the bodies that were up to fifty of them.

”Anything to leave here,” Perdita muttered, stretching her arms as she readied herself for the new task.

Outside, the grunts coming from the fight had considerably reduced as Daemon and his men continued to relentlessly fight, making sure not to leave any witch alive or from escaping.

The witches now reduced in number continued to pour on Daemon and his men, trying everything possible to tangle them in their traps.

Daemon, having fought their likes countless times with his men, maneuvered each attack and, in return, perfectly broke limbs and twisted necks.

Only a few witches remained, rage visible on their faces as they stared intensely at Daemon and his men.

”Filthy vampires!” One of them spat with all the hatred he could muster from his heart. ”What you do best is always raiding another’s territory thinking you are better than us.” The witch snarled, the very sound of saying vampires feeling like a curse on his lips as he launched another attack on Daemon.

Daemon rolled his eyes at the feeble attempt from the Witcher while he swiftly moved to the side, avoiding the witch’s claws on his neck.

When it came to fighting, the witches had no advantage compared to Daemon and his men, who had trained all their lives in the act of fighting. The witches only had their spells and magic to their advantage.

”How foolish of you to think you can stop us from achieving our plan.” The witcher continued, eyes burning in anger he had missed his first attack. ”Always your damn superiority. I can’t wait for the day we take over.”

”You talk a lot for someone barely making any attack,” Daemon taunted, rubbing on the wound of the witcher. ”Unfortunately that day is not coming. But, since you can’t wait, let me help end you today.” Daemon, after speaking, swung in on his opponent, grabbing him by the hand, and he twisted it and tore the arm off.

Without giving the witcher time to process what happened, his hand got hold of his neck, and in one motion, he also tore his head off.

”Scout the area for any missing witches or ones trying to escape. Leave none of them alive, I will finish up here.” Daemon instructed, and his men bowed and immediately obliged.

The rage within Sthena could be felt as he kicked yet another door open, but still, he didn’t see any trace of Perdita. Even her presence he couldn’t feel adding to his frustration as all kinds of thoughts went through his head.

These damn witches! He cursed, ticking off the urge to burn everything to the ground.

”Sthena!”

His steps paused as he swiftly turned to see Perdita run towards him breathlessly. ”I have been looking for you...I was so scared I lost you.” Perdita huffed as she closed up on him and embraced him tightly as though afraid he would disappear again.

Sthena stilled, the anger in him slowly dissipating while he stared intently at Perdita as she let him go and continued to speak in a rush, ”Come quickly, there is something you need to see. These damn witches will stop at nothing.” She spat, taking Sthena by his hand.

”Where have you been? How come I didn’t notice when you left? What happened?” Sthena finally asked, making no attempt to leave with her to where she wanted to show him.

A confused expression crossed Perdita’s face, her brows drawn close. ”I do not know what happened either. One minute I was standing at the door, and the next I didn’t know where I was. I thought you were out, and I had followed you.”

”Followed me?” Sthena quizzed, his gaze sharpening at once.

”Yes,” Perdita nodded. ”I didn’t know it was false. These witches are not to be underestimated.” She huffed, swinging her arm as she spoke.

”Come quickly, you have to see this immediately.” And she began walking so Sthena could follow.

”Sthena!” Another voice rang out in the corridor, drawing their attention.

On turning, Sthena’s eyes narrowed more than before, for standing before them was Perdita. Another Perdita.

Perdita, breathless and huffing for air with her hair all over the place as she approached and who, on seeing who stood beside Sthena, had a gobsmacked look on her face. ”What in heaven’s name is going on!”