A Paw In Two Worlds
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In a bygone era, Legacy was merely a feral feline, a stray born to the savage beauty of the wild. For six precarious years, she survived on cunning and stealth, observing humans from the shadows with a curious yet wary eye. That was until the day a benevolent soul plucked her from a treetop refuge. This human was an enigma, his voice a gentle melody that seemed to understand her very essence. Entranced, Legacy found herself ensnared in a mystifying domesticity that would last three bewildering years.
Coexisting with humans proved a confounding enigma. Their minds worked in inexplicable ways. She'd mew plaintively by the door, desperate for freedom, only to have her human respond with maddening chin scratches. Did they not grasp the simplest of feline language? Her demands were clear: liberty, not affection!
Gradually, her human grew attuned to her needs, though the process taxed her feline patience. Still, the shelter and protection he offered were a balm to her wild soul. Yet, proximity only deepened her fascination with the human enigma. What lay beyond those inscrutable eyes? How would the world alter if she strode on two legs instead of four? What wonders could opposable thumbs unlock? To experience the tactile marvels denied her species... the very idea was both exhilarating and heartbreaking.
Tragedy, however, has a cruel way of reshaping lives. After three years, Legacy found herself cast back into the wild, her heart burdened with loss and her spirit shattered. This desolate chapter brought her closer to true despair than any prior hardship. Even had her human friend lived, their companionship was by nature fleeting. Humans were blessed with an infuriating abundance of years, while cats were but brief, flickering flames. For two years, she drifted amidst human settlements, a ghostly observer consumed by their mystifying rituals. Why were they entranced by glowing rectangles, their faces bathed in the pale light of those tiny windows to the soul? Why did they bellow at these inanimate objects as if expecting a response? And what possessed them to emit those grating, cooing sounds that set her very teeth on edge?
Amidst this sea of incomprehensibility, one human stood out. An aged crone named Agatha, her skin sagging like well-worn leather, her teeth a testament to decay. Yet, despite her fearsome appearance, a gentle kindness radiated from her. The townsfolk dubbed her the "crazy cat lady," and it was she who brought food to the feral kindred. One day, as Legacy mingled with the colony of cats, Agatha's voice rasped against her ears. "You, little one, are not like the others. A shadow that hungers for a life forever out of reach."
The woman spoke cat!
Deal with the Devil
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"Strange human, your words are a riddle, a secret language only cats may comprehend. In all my years, I've never known such a marvel to be possible. Yes, I find myself entranced, observing and pondering the great 'what if.' What form would I take as a human? What tones would my voice carry? Would I roam the world in solitude or amidst a tapestry of loving kin and companions? The queries swirl in my mind like a maddening whirlwind!" Legacy had exclaimed, her tail twitching with the fervor of her curiosity. Then, a heavy sigh escaped her, "Alas, I am old, human, and my vitality ebbs with the fading moon. Perhaps, if the cosmos favor me, I shall be reborn in human form."
The wizened crone had cackled, a sound like brittle leaves and malevolence. "Why plead with the capricious Fates when I, myself, can grant your heart's deepest longing?"
The specifics of the pact that followed are a tale Legacy prefers not to recount. Suffice it to say, she bartered with a being from the shadows. The evidence of their compact is forever seared into her very being. Only later did Legacy discover the hag's true nature: a weaver of spells, a wielder of the arcane. Legacy's transformation was not merely into human form, but into a vessel for the mystical forces she had never imagined existed. Suddenly, she was a conduit for powers that both thrilled and terrified her. A wondrous gift, one might think.
Yet, it is a curse. The cost of this 'blessing' is a burden she can hardly bear, a weight of remorse from which she shall never find absolution.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Who's the Biggest Fool of All?
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Legacy stands about 5'8 and has a petite figure. Her long brown hair cascades down her shoulders in dark waves, and she often shrouds herself in a mysterious cloak. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, glow with an otherworldly intensity when she's casting powerful spells or consumed by strong emotions. Though she doesn't have a true birthday, having been born a cat, she appears to be in her late 20s.
She still has the ability to take on her feline form, though it's now a younger version. Her medium-length fur is a beautiful mix of brown, black, and white, and her amber eyes gleam in the light. Despite her desire to live as a human, she's most comfortable in this form and can even speak while in it.
Legacy has only recently gained freedom from the witch who held as an indentured servent, so she sometimes speaks as if she were still a cat. She's alone in the human world, with only her past scars for company. She has the potential for great power, but there's so much she still needs to learn.
Though eager to experience life as a human, Legacy is naturally distant, quiet, and mistrustful. She's patient and a good listener, with a bookish nature that leads her to get lost in libraries. Despite her prickly exterior, she's fiercely loyal to those she cares about. She often observes humans in bars and taverns, and has a fondness for animals. As a feline witch, she can see and speak to spirits, sometimes appearing to talk to herself when she's actually conversing with the dead.
Her shop, The Sixth Cauldron, is her sanctuary. The garden, overflowing with herbs and plants, is the first thing visitors see. The shop itself is a small stone hut, but the interior is surprisingly spacious. Shelves upon shelves of potions, ingredients, remedies, powders, and books line the walls. A flock of beloved chickens calls the backyard home. Don't fuck with her chickens.
She lives upstairs. The wooden floors creak with every step. The wallpaper is peeling, there's no hot water, and she's pretty sure the microwave is on the fritz, but it's home.
"She will have a legacy that will reach beyond the forest."
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Witch 🐾 Cat
Single 🐾 No Interest
Late Twenties
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"Her destiny is beyond what I can see."
Comments
There would never be a time when Legion would be able to understand her feeling, and that was by design, but at the very least he could try to do so. He could empathize. And he did understand the pain of losing someone. He would never forgive himself for letting Apep die, even though he hadn’t had a choice. Even though there was nothing he could have done about that. Apep had been his best friend. He had thought they were soulmates. He couldn’t imagine losing someone any closer to him than that, and he was sure a daughter was.
He did not need to ask about why it was her fault or what compelled her to feel the way she did. She didn’t need to dredge up her past to satisfy his own curiosity. It seemed he had very little of that, anyway. He didn’t need to know all about people’s pasts and pain to understand their hurt. And who wanted to be reminded of that kind of thing anyway? Wasn’t it enough to feel the hurt the first time?
It was time to move on. For now. If Legacy wanted to talk about what happened to the fullest extent possible, she could do it in her own time, on her own terms. Why should he have to know everything just to help her? That was not the kind of person he was. Anyway, he thought the rest was much more necessary and would be much more helpful than letting the witch pull through her past and re-remember tragedies.
She was right that the house was impressive. It was beautiful, a garden of flowers bloomed on each side of the walkway up to the house, and there was a smaller tree growing on the other side, where the apple tree was not. It looked much younger, hard to tell what it would be one day. Perhaps another fruit tree. The large rectangular windows on either side of the front door were open, letting the soft breeze sweep in, carrying the sound of crickets and the occasional nocturnal animal with it. The house had lights, but there were no street lights around them, and the nearest house was a mile away down the small lane, so the sky of sparkling stars was fully visible. Even the moon seemed to welcome their visit, large and bright in the sky, shining like a spotlight and illuminating the small world around them. If Legion had a house, he might think it was like this. He admired Anna’s planning, decorating, and craftsmanship in making the house a perfect, welcoming home.
At Legacy’s questioning, he laughed, a little, soft and gentle and seemingly amused. “Yeah. Of course. I texted her. She’s expecting us. She can be snippy with me, but I promise Anna is kind. No need to worry.” As if on cue, the front door to the house did in fact open. The light inside was soft and warm, like the glow of a fire. It screamed welcoming. The woman standing in the doorway seemed welcoming herself, despite Legion’s assertions that she could be a hardass.
Anna was a beautiful woman, with mounds of fluff on her from head to toe. Her skin glowed with a slight tan, likely from spending time outside, and her hair fell in beautiful chocolaty cascades down around her shoulders and back, some strands catching golden in the light of the house. She wore a simple white cotton dress beneath a red and white apron that was decorated with apples and little green leaves. And though she sported no makeup, her face could not have been more perfect, cheeks rosy and eyes bright and bronzy, lips full, soft and rosy too. She looked like a painting.
At her side stood a little girl, too. She was much smaller, her hair darker, but her skin a slightly deep olive, and she wore a dress apparently made from the same fabric Anna’s apron was made of. She clung to her mother’s dress and hid slightly behind her. And she, like Legion, wore tiny dark tinted glasses, though it was clear she was staring at Legacy. Anna was quiet for a moment, taking her sweet time in looking over both Legion, who was splattered with dried blood himself, and Legacy, who had had enough forethought to try and wipe the blood off of her. Legion hadn’t even considered it as an issue.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ There was a telltale snap in Anna’s voice. Unlike Legion, she did not have an English accent. Her’s was American, Midwestern to be exact. Legion only smiled in a way that was both knowing and dismissive, and Anna gave him a scoff before stepping to the side. ‘Well? Don’t just stand there. Get inside. Dinner is getting cold.’
Legion was the one to usher Legacy inside, but he followed without a word. The ceilings were short, but neither of them were particularly tall, so that didn’t really matter. It was indeed warm inside. Not dirty, or messy, but it was cluttered and homey, well lived in. People lived here and thrived here. Plastic children’s toys lay strewn about the small entryway, and many pairs of shoes littered the mudroom right next to it. Legion took his own shoes off out of respect, even though he didn’t really plan on staying long.
As they entered the kitchen, it sported the same vibe: homey, warm, glowing. It was decorated in a very rustic farmhouse way, motifs of chickens and cows and other farm animals could be seen on cookie jars, kitchen towels, decorative plates, storage containers. It wasn’t an enormous kitchen, but it held a decent enough sized old oak table, and above it on the wall hung a pentagram woven together out of sticks. The food smelled divine, as was to be expected. Roasted fish with capers and lemon, chicken, corn, green beans, carrots doused in a brown sugar glaze, and yorkshire pudding were all spread out in the center, with four plates around it all.
‘I’ll go get Navy.’ Anna said, not even giving herself the chance to introduce herself before she was off into a different room. The little girl did not go with her though, and instead, despite how very small she was, climbed her way into one of the table’s chairs, first sitting on her knees, and then standing up.
‘Uncle Le!!!’ Was the coo that came from her, along with a giggle, and she held her arms out to him. He picked her up with ease, causing another rush of giggles to fall from her.
Legion turned to Legacy, then, offering her a soft smile of his own. “Legacy, this is Bee. Bee, say hi to Legacy.” And the girl pressed her face into his shirt, waving shyly at the witch. She was a starer like Legion was, despite her gaze hidden behind her own glasses. Legion had taken his off and tucked them away hours ago, evidently not bothering to put them back on after he had already been seen without them.
Is she a friend of yours?
Malphas listened as Legacy confirmed his suspicions. The witch did not kill Lucinda, but she did steal the pendant. If not for Agatha, Lucy would have been able to summon Malphas for help when she was attacked. This was 6 months ago and as the cat explained, Malphas realized something else; Legacy did not realize she was dead.
The feline was given a brief nod when she inquired about their relationship. They were friends, but their relationship had always been a little complicated. Malphas could tell Legacy more about that later when time was not of the essence.
“Yes, she was. The pendant was a gift for her.”
Aurora sounded like a piece of work. Agatha was repulsive enough, but her drive to remain young forever meant that she needed to remain civil, especially around the president of Hell. He doubted he would receive the same courtesy from Aurora. When Legacy raised her voice, Malphas brought a clawed finger to his lips. He spoke his mind and was not afraid of the witch. Now that he knew the truth about Agatha, Malphas knew exactly what he was going to do in the morning.
“I understand. If I am going to assist you, I need you to tell me more about the necklace she wears. What would happen if the piece of jewelry was destroyed?”
Would Legacy be free? Would she turn back into a cat forever? Malphas needed to know. He wanted to set her free but understood that she wanted to retain her human form. This could be arranged. The president was an expert when it came to transfiguration. He learned from the best growing up.
When the feline spoke again, he smiled. He was not as interesting as the myths and legends. Agatha built him up to be some sort of soul sucking demon king with the power to grant eternal life.
“She wants eternal life.” Truth is, Malphas never granted anyone eternal life before. He could do so, but never found himself in a position like this. “More importantly, she wants eternal youth. It is a trait common among witches.” He rolled his eyes.
You can’t grant her immortality!
He raised his hand to put her at ease. He did not want to risk waking the witch up too early. “I am not concerned with Agatha’s desires. I am more interested in assisting you.” She was probably wondering why a prince of Hell would care about what she wanted. He saw something in her and the two had more in common than she realized.
“My name? Malphas?” The question caught him off guard. “Hey, I did not pick it out.” She would be surprised to learn just how much of his life was chosen for him. Not everything was in his control.
Legion was nothing if not paternally minded. Regardless of what he was or what his past had been like, what he was now was obvious. He took care of others. He seemed to have endless patience, didn’t mind listening to other people’s stories, and was clearly, truly empathetic. He had been through enough to understand love and loss and deep seated grief. Empty and painful at the same time.
And though he did not ask, he did listen as Legacybegan to retell her story. Long and grueling a constant and unending ache. He could only imagine. His sisters could not die, and he had no fear of losing them, even though he protected them so fiercely it was as if they were fragile flowers and he a disgruntled gardener. His mother, though, was a different story. And he had friends, too, and lovers, close people he clung to for comfort and love, and he knew the impossible pain of losing them when it came to the end of their life.
He never shunned friends of any kind, of any mortal or immortal status, but he had told Legacy already that he only dated people who were immortal. So far, that had been the right decision for him. How could he possibly lose someone again, the way he had Apep, the way he had so many others? And if he had had a child, if he had lost them the way Legacy had, how would he have felt? Would grief consume him, the way it had in the past? Would it be more painful than losing the love of his life? Or would he just revert back to how he used to be, cold and heartless, empty?
He wouldn’t know. He refused to have children, and he was holding to that regardless of how much he liked them. There was loss there, too, the loss of something that would never be, but he understood it could hold no candle to the tragedy Legacy must have felt, first trying to save her family, and then only her daughter, and then losing her anyway. The way that could entirely destroy a person… Legion could truly only imagine.
When her story ended, Legion could only blink at her, his gaze soft and understanding. He waited for a moment, before he reached out and performed the same action he had done earlier, gently resting his hand on her head in a familial gesture. He couldn’t totally sympathize with her loss but he understood well enough. He would never judge her tears or her actions. She had made a mistake, but how could she have known the toll it would take, the consequences it would have? The truth was, there was no way of her knowing. Hindsight was 20/20, and all.
“I can’t judge you for how you feel, or blame you for feeling that way.” Legion said, very softly. There was a soothing nature to his voice, soft and gentle, meant to be so. “But you were her mother. You were a mother to her, and she loved you. I’m sure of it. You made a mistake. You couldn’t have known the outcome would be what it was. Her death is not your fault.”
He knew it didn’t feel that way. He knew he himself had spent countless hours blaming himself for things he couldn’t control, for other’s deaths, for the mistakes he had made. And he knew, also, he would continue to feel that way about things that happened to him, regardless of the state of reality. Reality did not have a say in emotions, or rarely did.
He knew this was certainly not a feeling Legacy would want to linger on, so it really was best for the two of them to move on, the demon reached up, brushing a tear away with an abnormally warm hand, before reaching out for Legacy’s own without another word. Rest was best, anyway. Anna would be happy to see him. He hoped.
When she did take his hand, there would be that familiar vanishing feeling, walking through a hole in space to take them from one place to another. When they arrived next, they were in a the sprawling English countryside, hills lush with vibrant green grass, trees, and baaing sheep. The house they were next to was beautiful, not the largest house in the world, but a moderately sized, classic English build, and a well kempt back and front yard. There was even a walkway, lined with stones on each side, soft reddish rock filling it, and rose bushes blooming with petals of white-and-pink ombre. Even a fruit tree decorated the front of the yard, sporting bright round red apples.
Legion didn’t seem like the kind of person to talk about his problems, and so his silence on the matter probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. He would share if asked, of course, but he didn’t feel the need to talk about his problems beyond what was asked of him. It didn’t hurt, per se, but he knew it could make people uncomfortable. And he wasn’t very comfortable being pitied or even emphasized with.
Legion never wanted to push. He remained quiet as he stared at the metal piece, how it vibrated with a strange and intense power. Not unlike himself, and it was odd that his presence made it sing. “I suppose it must have something to do with demons, or Hell.” Legion added, not really sure he was being very helpful. If it was something heavenly, sure he would repel it instead of adding to its power.
As Legacy seemed to give in to his suggestion about quitting for the night, Legion moved to take out his phone, sending a couple of quick texts. He imagined Anna would be mostly okay with a guest, if not a little irritated at Legion for simply assuming it would be fine without asking. She would get over it, though. She loved him, and she knew that the things he did were selfless, even if they annoyed her. Aside, of course, from ignoring her texts and phone calls. That was all pure selfishness. And with that in mind, Legion tucked his phone away again.
He let his hand slip away from the top of her head, falling to his side as he looked around too. He did so while Legacy spoke, a frown creasing his face. He would never expect her to tell him the things she was hiding. He knew it was important to her; that was all that mattered. It controlled her in its own way. That’s why it was so important. He understood. Everyone had a right to keep their secrets.
Still, ,he let his gaze trail back to Legacy in silence, tilting his head slightly. He was listening. He was always listening. He wasn’t really the type to solve puzzles, and it was part of the reason he never made deals like that with people. As a demon, at least when he lived in Hell, it had been possible to make contracts with humans or other beings who wanted to use his power for whatever reason. But his contracts were simple. He’d help, and then he’d consume them, or else give him his side of the bargain. For the most part, humans tended to forget who they were dealing with. They didn’t want to give him his side of the deal. And they lost their lives in return.
But Legacy kept talking, and he could tell that this was just as important to her as keeping the secret was. His lips parted as if he were going to speak, but he couldn’t find the words, and so let his mouth close again in silence, frowning still. Her own secret washed over him, a stab to the chest. He didn’t know the feeling of losing a child. He had never had children, luckily for him, because he mostly dated men. And it was lucky, because he knew any child he did have would have gone directly to Lucifer, and he couldn’t have that.
For a moment, he just stood there, looking at her. He had questions too. Was she safe? Did Legacy lose her? Was she taken and forced into servitude? But he did not question. Instead he moved, slowly, carefully, and wrapped his arms around the smaller witch. It was a gentle hug, but tight enough to mean something. Even though there were a hundred things he could say, all he could really think of to say was, softly, gently,
“I’m sorry. Legacy. I’m sorry.” Even if she was alive, it was unlikely she was safe. Of course her daughter would be the most important thing to her. Legion would not have thought it should be any other way.
She was going to die anyway. Now? An hour from now? 3 years? 20 years? What is the damn difference? Human lives are so brief. Why do you think so many crave immortality?
Malphas remembered the words as if they were spoken yesterday. The demons spoke of Lucinda’s death as if it was inconsequential. He was unable to keep his friend’s death a secret. Good news always travels fast, especially in Hell. For someone like Alastair taking a life meant nothing. He did not care about anything except for his ego. Fortunately, the moron knew when to shut up. The president heard him speak about Lucinda’s death, but he never brought the topic up to his boss. He would not dare.
Lucy did matter, and she was gone because of him. This painful fact was what bothered him the most. The very stone he had given her for protection inadvertently caused her death. The irony, something his mother would find hilarious, rocked him to the core.
When Legacy corrected him, Malphas said nothing. He was sure as Hell capable of being wrong especially when it came to someone he barely knew. The cat was a new question mark in his life he did not ask for. His brow furrowed as Legacy mentioned a name. She was close, but he knew exactly who she was talking about.
“Her name was Lucinda. Agatha took it from her six months ago?” Malphas thought for a moment. The witch took it before Lucy was killed. Agatha was the reason why the young woman was unable to call for help. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He needed to remain calm. The last thing he needed was to scare Legacy off. He paid attention as she mentioned another name. Aurora? Was she another witch?
“Who is Aurora?” He reached one of his clawed hands out and slowly drew a circle in the sand in front of him.
“Do you wish to be rid of Agatha?” He wanted to help but could not trust Legacy yet. She would need to remain in the dark about one important fact concerning Agatha’s seal. He could not risk the witch realizing her mistake.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Malphas was counting on the kitty’s curiosity tonight. He needed to speak with her while Agatha slept. He was a patient man, but this conversation had a time limit. The old crone would be up at dawn expecting a decision from him. He needed answers and now. Legacy was right to be untrustworthy of the enchanted circle Malphas found himself in. There was no guarantee the seal even worked. The scythe wandered the halls, but could he?
When she spoke, Malphas slowly shook his head having no interest in food or petty comforts. Instead of starting an interrogation, he decided to offer a little explanation for earlier.
“His name is Zev, the wolf you smelled earlier. He is a friend of mine. I was with him when your mistress summoned me. He is fond of cats.” The scythe slowly entered the circle levitating beside him as it did earlier.
“I apologize for waking you. I am aware you had no desire to summon me. You helped, but reluctantly.” Legacy had nothing to gain from Agatha living forever, only an eternity of misery and torment.
“The pendant she used to take me here; do you know where she got it?” His eyes were as big as saucers and completely focused on her. This was her chance to tell him the truth, or at least what she knew. The president of Hell knew the pendant was taken from Lucinda, but did not know how or more importantly, when.
Malphas expected Legacy would want something in return for her cooperation. Agatha made a mistake mentioning the necklace earlier. Her showboating would cost the witch her servant if Malphas had his way. He could break the necklace and free Legacy from Agatha’s control. He was willing to return the favor if she gave him what he wanted.
Back in Hell.
Alastair grinned like an idiot when he realized that Malphas was gone. Was this a joke? He was tempted to take the spell book he had used last time to travel to the mortal realm, but there was one big furry problem. Zev was still there growling at the imp now that his friend was gone.
“Just a few minutes Zev? I am sure he will not mind. I will be back in the blink of an eye.” The wolf continued to growl. Knowing he did not stand a chance with the beast around, Alastair let out a defeated sigh and slowly slipped out of the room.
Legion considered this, but shook his head despite not answering verbally. He didn’t think he deserved that much. He really did not think highly enough of himself to say she should be honored by him telling her something like that. He did not tell anyone about his birthday, or discuss it really, because he didn’t really have one. He was all for celebrating birthdays for other people, but his seemed almost tedious. It wasn’t as if it was a real birthday, anyway.
He let the comment slide, though, and instead let the conversation carry onward. As Legacy began talking about her escape, he considered it in silence, tilting his head slightly to the side as he did so, like always. His lips parted at the mention of a branding, like he was going to say something pitiful or complain. Instead, he reached up himself, pressing his hand to his right shoulder blade with a frown.
“I see,” he said softly, “I know the feeling.” Of course he did. Legacy did not know that part of him yet, but maybe she would in time. Unfortunately, Legion could be a very important piece in Agatha’s puzzle, if she were to know his connection with Lucifer. That is, if she was really after a connection with Lucifer in the first place. It wasn’t out of bounds to think she was. Although there were other devils that could have caught her eye. Lucifer just happened to be the most popular one to attempt to work with, likely because he was the most powerful.
He continued his silence as Legacy continued her explanation, letting his head fall back to gaze thoughtfully at the ceiling. So, she had done something regrettable. He assumed, anyway. Maybe it did seem like he would ask about it, but in the end he let himself fall silent and said nothing. He was not one to pry, if every other action of his had something to say about it. She would tell him in time, he figured. And if she didn’t… that was her right. Who was he to judge? He was sure his own actions in the past were far worse than anything Legacy could have done.
“We all make mistakes.” He said gently, glancing toward her again finally, slowly shaking his head. It was not unreasonable to assume that this was not something Legion would judge her on, or something he was going to try and pry out of her. That was not the kind of person he was. He was silent and observant, asking questions only when he felt it was entirely necessary, responding carefully or with no words at all.
Finally, the demon stood, brushing his hands off on his pants. He reached out to take the metal into his hand, blinking at the thing as it vibrated in a way that would be chilling if he didn’t find it so simply odd. He prodded at the sharp end of it, pursing his lips slightly.
“Fish hook?” He asked, which was simply the dumbest answer he could possibly have come up with, but it was the first thing he could think of. His smile grew a little sadder, then, and somewhat distant. “The hook of despair sinks into your heart, and it will not let go.” With that, he held it back out to Legacy. “Yet another mystery. Maybe the end of a blade. I wouldn’t say it’s just scrap metal. Hold onto it for now.”
He reached out, then, and gently rested his hand atop the witch’s head. A familial gesture, almost, gentle and light, coaxing to calm.
“I think we should stop searching for tonight, Legacy. You need rest. You and I both. The mysteries will be here with us tomorrow.”
Legacy’s rant filled the small train car, her voice rising and falling in a chaotic rhythm. Alexander leaned back against the cold metal wall, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Though her words were frantic, her heartbeat revealed the truth—it was nothing more than stress-fueled rambling. Still, it entertained him in a way that few things did these days.
She was right, he had caught the hint of something unusual in her scent. Feline? Maybe that wasn't quite right. But there was definitely an animalistic undertone that piqued his curiosity. He had already filed it away for later, something to poke at once he got what he needed from her about the amulet.
As she spoke, recounting her story, Alexander listened carefully, though his posture suggested otherwise. His arms remained crossed over his chest, his body almost lazily slumped against the wall. Yet every word she said registered. Witches were powerful, that much he’d learned over his years. Once upon a time, he’d dismissed them as weak, too human with their frailties. But experience had shown him otherwise—under the right circumstances, witches could be formidable.
When she finally paused and asked about compulsion, Alexander's eyes flicked toward her, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I don’t have that particular ability,” he answered, shaking his head. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t inherited the traditional compulsion ability most vampires possessed. What he had was far more nuanced, something he’d gained after feeding on his sire. But that story could wait. “Vampires often manifest abilities from their sire's bloodline. At least, in my experience.”
He chuckled again, this time at her naivety. She’d given away the amulet so easily, yet there was something endearing about her innocence. It was starting to grow on him, despite the seriousness of their situation.
“We jumped this train for your safety,” he explained, finally offering her a sliver of information he’d withheld until now. “It runs through that small Louisiana town about five times a day.” The frequency wasn’t something he truly kept track of, but it sounded plausible enough. “It’s a freight train, taking goods to nearby states. This one’s probably heading to Mississippi. Maybe Tennessee if we ride it out. Your choice.”
His gaze shifted toward her, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. “Have you heard of the Talisman of Absolute Law?” he asked, his tone almost conversational. The sound of rain intensified, drumming against the metal roof as the train sped deeper into the storm. “It’s an ancient artifact, lost to time. Some say it was created by the Gods, though I’m not so sure. Either way, it’s a dangerous thing. And it sounds eerily similar to what you’ve described.” Alexander was sure, they were not talking about the same artifact, but could they have been created the same?
Alexander turned his attention to the open door of the boxcar, watching as the dark landscape blurred by. An empty field stretched out before them, dotted occasionally by the shadow of a barren tree, briefly illuminated as the lightning flashed.
A man had entered the coffee shop, his presence subtle yet commanding in a way. He was tall for a normal human, standing at least six feet, not in any overtly threatening manner, but something about him exuded a quiet intensity. His dark, rain-soaked coat clung to him, and he seemed completely unbothered by the water dripping from his raven-colored hair onto the floor. The barista at the counter seemed to hesitate as if unsure whether to offer a greeting or wait for him to speak first. He spoke his order to the barista, his voice deep and relaxing as he asked for a large mocha with no whipped cream on it. Normally, he prefers his black coffee, but this time, he wanted something sweet and chocolatey to help warm up his body from the downpour raging outside.
The man noticed the stares from the other patrons as he placed his order. If there was one thing that William never failed at, was being the most attractive person in the room. His eyes were a deep blue color that showed as bright as sapphires, with short black hair that at the moment was drenched in water. It was obvious that his body was well defined, and it was covered by his drenched coat. One could see the rippling muscles that formed the angel. He looked like a being carved out of marble, like one of Michalenaglo's famous statutes. His confidence was palpable, adding to his allure. Soon, the barista called his order, and he had his drink in his hand. Turning to scan the room with his eyes, he looked for a place to sit down.
Noticing that there was an empty table by the young women who sat at the edge of the room. He made his way towards the table, placing his drink on the table. The man started to slip out of his coat, and underneath it was a black button-up dress shirt and a blue tie. He wore a pair of black jeans to finish his fit, as the rest of his students like to call it. He started to remove the backpack that he had hidden underneath the coat and placed it on the floor next to the chair’s legs. Letting out a sigh, he sat down and started to tune in to the conversations that he was hearing from the other patrons. Granted, he was only getting bits and bits, but putting two and two together wasn't hard. There were a lot of discussions about the recent string of murders that were plaguing the city. He had heard the same stories all throughout his workday in his class. There were discussions on how cruel and bizarre the murderers were and how there was safety in numbers. The thought had crossed the angel’s mind: what if the murderer wasn’t human? But instead, a demon was responsible. He wasn’t too sure yet, but it was an idea that came to his mind. Nevertheless, he reached out for the plastic cup and brought it up to his lips, the smell of chocolate and coffee mixing together as the warm, brown liquid started to fill his body with warmth and a sense of security.
At least for the time being, he would wait out the storm and start to grade a few assignments that had already started to fill up his classroom portal.
*Tosses into the theatre*
Get back in there, you
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