“No! He is still alive,” the magistrate disagreed on the option Damien gave.
“So what is it going to be? You either continue to work for the witches and we kill you in the possession of the spitgrass which is used to corrupt the vampire race and use the seeds in there to regrow the plants which we had burned down or,” paused Damien, “Or you stop working for them and let your son die.”
Life was harsh but Penny had never had to experience something like this where a father was trying to keep his son alive to only be caught up in such a mess now. The worse she had was her mother wanting to kill her which she still hadn’t been able to figure as to why. She couldn’t tell how fortunate those children were whose parents fought for them, to keep them alive and breathing, protecting them from the wretched world. Her heart ached to remember it and she brushed the feelings away from her mind.
“Do you know where the witches are?” Damien asked while the man had clutched both his hands in frustration of not knowing what to pick, “There might be some black witches in here who are still living in the town but it would be hard to weed them out. If the black witch is going to come here to collect it she must already be here. Elliot,” he called the red-haired man, “Do you think we can close the borders of the town checkpost in an hour?”
“Sure. I will go get the guards alerted and have them placed for inspection,” Elliot replied back quickly.
If the black witches weren’t here yet, they wouldn’t be able to enter the premise of the town easily. And if they did appear, it meant they were living here amongst the other townsfolk who were unaware of it. Right now they had to filter the people who came and went to the town, while also sending some people to scout the forest.
“I don’t know where they are. I never met the witches,” answered the magistrate who looked worried, “The communication always took place through the letters that I received.”
“Which would mean you will soon receive another letter on where to meet the witch to hand these over,” Damien’s eyes narrowed. The black witches were stupid but there some smart ones and if it was someone who was handling the spitgrass, it mean that the black witch knew not to get caught by anyone.
After speaking some more with the magistrate, warning him to not run away or do something stupid, the three of them stepped out of the office. When they did come out, a person who was sitting on top of the roof stared down at them. Eyes that were made of slit snake eyes but the features still very human, the woman ran her thin tongue across her thin lips.
It seemed like the magistrate hadn’t been caught yet as she couldn’t see them carrying the spit grass out of the office which was stored there.
Damien who was speaking to Elliot, said, “We are being watched,” he didn’t turn to look at the roof where the woman who had been sitting there stared at them. Keeping an eye on their movements.
“The one like a monkey on the roof?” Elliot asked noticing right after they had stepped out but making it look like he hadn’t seen anything at all, “I should probably babysit the magistrate so that he doesn’t turn into a dead fish.”
“Yes, that would be wise. If she’s here, it means there are others who have already entered the town. Penny and I will have a look around the town and speak to the bookkeeper,” Damien informed, receiving a nod of approval from Elliot.
The red-haired man walked towards the window of the office, looking at it from outside and the reflection where he caught the black witch perched up on the roof still has her eyes on them. He brought his hand up, running it through his wavy locks of hair as if he were setting it and turned around.
“It would give enough time to destress him by a few smokes,” Elliot, shook his hand with Damien and stepped back inside the office to see the magistrate frown, “I forgot we were supposed to share some smokes. Also, those refreshments you spoke about earlier, do you have them ready?” Elliot asked the man.
The black witch who was sitting on the rooftop made of red mud bricks stared at the vampire who went back in, her face turning sour. One minute she was there and the next second she had disappeared to go let the other witches who were in the town.
“Are you always like this?” Penny asked once they were alone and had started to walk, making their way towards the bookkeeper.
“Like what?” he asked her, his head tilting to his side. Penny opened her mouth but closed it, shaking her head, “Tell me,” he urged her to speak. Her question was unnecessary as she already knew the answer to it. Damien had always been like this but seeing the plight of the magistrate where his son had gone missing, she had hoped for him to be a little sensitive over the matter.
“You’re going to waste the bullets if you shoot unnecessarily,” she said, shifting the subject but Damien didn’t let it go.
She pressed her lips, trying to form the sentence right so that it wouldn’t rebuke an argument between the, “Telling the man his son was dead-”
“It is the truth,” Damien interrupted her before her sentence could start properly, “Black witches have been known to be cruel and heartless. Selfish with their own needs and I don’t think I have to put much light on them.”
“A few false words would have eased his mind,” Penny spoke back, her face turning one to be of a frown.
