In an hour’s time, Damien had killed more than six animals and wasn’t yet satisfied. Suddenly he heard a rustle from above and he took the gun that he carried with him. Pulling it from his back to shoot right above him for a person to fall down on the ground.
The person had dark scale-like features. Eyes that resembled a snake and tongue that slithered in and out of her mouth.
“What do we have here? A corrupted vampire?” asked the black witch with a grin on her face which made her look ugly in his eyes.
“And an ugly black witch. By any chance, you have the antitode which will cure my current condition,” he asked without dropping down his gun down to his side.
“Should have asked before calling me ugly,” said the black witch, to throw a sharp metal towards him. All he had to do was take one step to the left to let the metal pass by his face.
Damien smiled, looking at her, “I was only stating the truth. You are quite an ugly witch I have come across so far,” this earned him a few more metals that came flying in speed right at him which he dodged one after another.
“I would have given it to you. The medicine for the cure you’re looking for,” the witch shook her head with a smile that made her look like a dead corpse. One of the weak points, when it came to the black witches, was that they were weak to compliments to how they looked. Unlike the vampires or the human or the white witches, the black witches lacked in the department of looks. Their true nature of appearance was hideous in nature which was why they used a decoy of human disguise to make themselves look pretty enough that had men as well as women drooling over them.
“Don’t feel so bad. Most of you are ugly,” continued to Damien with an unwashable grin on his face.
The black witch started to attack him relentlessly and in less than one minute, Damien had the witch against the tree with his hand around her neck, “Tell me now, where is this potion of spit grass being grown. If you tell me the truth, I might call you beautiful and maybe go out on dinner on the hill nearby.”
She scoffed looking at him. Struggling to get out of the hold to realize the man was much stronger than the other men and women she had killed and used.
“Let me go, and I might tell,” she offered to have Damien shaking his head in disapproval.
“That can’t be done,” he tched.
“Why don’t you try kissing me? I might tell it to you,” said the witch, her form turning one to her human form where she looked beautiful. The witch undoubtedly knew her trade on how to save her neck. Damien smiled, giving one of his most charming smiles as he looked at her with his hold on her neck loosening.
“That might not be a bad idea,” he whispered to her, angling his face as he got closer to her lips. The witch eagerly opened her lips and before their lips could touch each other, the vampire head banged the woman and threw her on the floor of the forest.
“Why the f.u.c.k would you do that?” asked the witch, to have Damien smiling.
“My taste hasn’t fallen down to the level that I have to sully my lips by kissing you,” stating this, he shot the black witch right on the mark at the center of her forehead. The bullet pierced through the front of her head creating a hole to see her skin starting to crumble into black dust.
Before he knew it, he heard the whistling of the wind which was headed in his way. More witches.
Not knowing how many were coming, he decided to take cover near a tree. With his bullets that he was yet to refill and his corruption lingering in his body, it was better to take shelter than fight. The whistling sounds diminished as if it took a different direction and he stepped away right in time to come in front of a black witch who was dragging a woman by her hair.
Pulling out the gun’s locks, he checked to see that there was a single bullet in there. Of course, he could refill them but silver bullets weren’t easy to make. The number of days it took to prepare them was time-consuming, and these bullets were created by his own hands.
With a sigh on his lips, he aimed right at the black witch for the gunshot to resonate and echo through the forest for the second time. The black witch fell cold on the ground, the body dissipating in the air with just a mist of black dust.
His feet took him to where the woman laid on the ground, cowering and trying to keep a distance from him.
She looked at him for several seconds, as if expecting him to ask if she was alright but instead, he said, “Get out of here unless you want to fall prey again,” he didn’t wait to give her a hand to stand up. Turning around he walked away from there leaving the woman sitting there.
The woman instead of listening to what Damien said, continued to sit there looking at the man’s back before he disappeared behind the trees of the forest. Her once fearful and tear-filled eyes had turned dry as she stood up. Dusting her hands.
Her brown eyes and hair looked in the direction he had disappeared in. Looking at the black witch’s ashes of dust that was sprinkled over the ground she turned her eyes away from it hardly bothered with the death of the witch.
Her eyes narrowed. Wasn’t this the same man whom she had seen around her dear daughter Penelope when she had visited the village? The snake-like tongue slithered out of her mouth to go back in again.
