A case had been set out from the council on accord of Grace Quinn going missing suddenly who was a pureblooded vampire. Her pictures were sent out and posted with the heading that read ‘Missing’ and below the picture had writing that spoke about giving out coins if they were to know about her or any information that could come to be useful.
With the matter of black witches being dealt, the people who belonged to the council could finally take a sigh of relief from their overloaded work and start looking into other matters. As much as the black witch’s poster had brought out errant strands to have the woman flee away for protection, there was no way Grace Quinn could be traced.
When Grace had gone to Robarte’s house, she had assumed that she would take the favor from him and then set a trap for Penelope so that she could get the girl kicked out of the house but the young vampiress had poor knowledge when it came to the man she had befriended.
Who knew that while digging the grave for someone, she would have been so deep that getting out of it was not possible.
Her insecurities and naive pride had cost her, her life where she now sat lifeless in a dark room in the house of the Varreran. The room was a dark one that was attached to Robarte’s bedroom where he slept and it was the room which he used to lock up the slaves he brought home.
Right now, the man was in his room, humming softly a song as he folded his clothes.
The servants he had been using all these years were dead corpses where he had placed spells on them but their bodies had started to rot and he had to discard them one after another leaving him only with the butler who was another piece of a corpse he had picked up from a far town so that the butler would not be recognized by anyone.
He took a bath, the water falling down on his feet as spots of blood fell from his body. He ran his fingers across his skin and back, reaching for the nape of his neck where the skin had been stitched. It was the first cut and stitch he had made after a month of the ritual he was partaking in.
Robarte washed his hair that had turned greasy in this house that was dusty. After turning off the tap and getting out of the bath, he wiped his body that had many more stitches that ran down behind his back. The wounds looked fresh as they had been cut open to have the new organs of the vampire being replaced in there from the old ones.
Wearing his clothes he went to the mirror that was broken. To a human who would enter this house, the house would appear to be perfect. Clean, poised, the butler waiting at the front where lights were lit in the hall and the rooms of the entire mansion. But if one saw from his eyes, the mansion was broken and dark. There was no light, and the smell of the wood felt like it was decaying. The butler was a dead corpse who had no eyes of his own and his body was crooked. The mirror he stood in front of was broken leaving only part and pieces of the glass being fixed on the wall.
Nonetheless, he combed his hair with a comb that was old and some of the tooth missing from it.
He looked at himself. Eyes that were bright red like a vampire and when he opened his mouth, the fangs came out that made him stare at it for some time before he closed his mouth. His appearance had always been kind and gentle, his speech polite that could win a lady if he tried it and he had always had any lady he wanted in the past.
For Robarte, it had started to turn difficult when it came to mingling with people. Not because he was bad at it, but because his organs had started to give out lately that was bringing the skin of the black witch. But now he would be able to go out again. Pick the women he wanted and if needed, he would drag them to his lair.
But he wanted something fresh, he wanted to scar a girl’s body and for that, he started to get ready to head out to the black market.
It had been many years since the ritual had been made and he had decided to look for the woman he had completed the ritual with. Caitlin Artemis. He recollected the memory of the time they had met.
It was the time of Summer in Valeria and the girl and her brother lived with their uncle and aunt.
Mrs. Artemis had spoken to him and his sister before Caitlin had arrived, “Make sure you speak to her well. She had sharp eyes. One lie and you will be caught.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” said the young black witch, Robarte who had come to see the girl. He had dressed just like Caitlin had wanted, neatly combed hair, a gentle demeanor and thought to protect her. When Caitlin had arrived outside, the man had bowed his head down and then looked up and into her eyes before taking her hand, “It is good to meet you finally, Miss Caitlin.”
At that time, the white witch wasn’t ready and it was his sister who had coaxed her along with Mrs. Artemis for an engagement after which things had proceeded smoothly. Robarte smiled as he looked at his reflection. He had got her in bed but things had not gone all well.
He turned around and took the coat that had been hanging on the stand. Wearing it, his mind went back again over the last day he had seen her.
That day, a witch hunter had been following him and Robarte had to kill the man. He had taken him to the forest and he had dug him before going back to meet Caitlin as if nothing had happened. To be that perfect gentleman but who knew that Caitlin was sharper than what her aunt thought her to be.
During the time of night when he had come to meet her, she moved a couple of steps away from him without letting him touch her.
“What is going on?” Robarte asked with a soft smile on his face at the sudden distance she had created between them. When he tried to step close, she suddenly pulled the knife to point it towards him.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned him. She had come to meet him at his home which was isolated and away from the rest of the houses in the village.
He gave her a quizzical look, “Are you trying to kill me, Caitlin? Drop the knife and we can talk about what is going on,” saying this, he reached out to her with his hand reaching and Caitlin had swung the knife to cut the palm of his hand where black blood oozed out and she gasped.
