Eternal Undying Chronicles

Chapter 40 The Witch

Alicarde sat rigidly in the passenger seat of Malefica's luxurious car, his sword held tightly in his hand, its blade pointed directly at her as she drove through the city. He was an emotional wreck at the moment, and he didn't put it past the professor to be up to no good. After all, he had seen humans aiding the monsters before.

The neon lights outside flashed intermittently, casting fleeting shadows across his face, further darkening his thoughts. The bustling city continued its life, uncaring for the anguish that filled his heart.

"Who are you, really?" he demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.

"You hinted at something back in your office, and now you show up out of nowhere. Are you involved in Anne's kidnapping?"

He repeated the questions he most wanted answers to.

Malefica's eyes remained on the road, her expression calm despite the sharp blade threatening her.

"My name is Malefica Farmazoan?, a witch," she reintroduced herself. "Allow me to reiterate, I am not your enemy. I have been on these lands for a thousand years," her tone shifted slightly, carrying a touch of sadness.

Alicarde didn't care about her sob story; he just wanted answers.

"Until four hundred years ago, when the first settlers built what would become Evergreen City. Ever since, I have watched over this place," she continued.

"Watched over it? Really now, you seem to be doing an excellent job... no wonder this city is monster-infested," his sarcastic voice barely masked his resentment.

Malefica frowned but continued, sensing what he was getting at.

"A certain incident has left me bereft of my power. The most I can manage are three spells a day and a few parlor tricks," her voice grew more despondent.

"I am not involved with the Strigoi," she said firmly. "I followed you with a spell because you didn't show up in my office."

"A spell?" Alicarde's grip on the hilt tightened.

She sighed, adjusting her glasses. "Yes, a spell. I used the paper you left on Hawthorn as a catalyst for a tracking spell. I wanted you in my office to enlist your help in dealing with this incident."

Alicarde's eyes narrowed. "Why me? And why would I want to help you?"

"Because," she replied, her voice steady, "I am not your enemy. I have no allegiance to the Strigoi. In fact, I oppose them as much as you do. More importantly, this whole incident began because of you—or rather, that Evernight girl coming to this city."

He didn't lower his sword. "What are you on about? If that thing was after us, it would have come directly for us. Why involve innocent people?"

"He has another objective, or perhaps he's just preparing for an offensive," Malefica spoke calmly.

She turned her face towards him, her gaze intense. "I have no reason to lie to you, Alicarde. I know what you've been through tonight, the horrors you faced. I first found out about you because of your familiar when you tried to sneak into my class."

She turned her eyes back to the road. "I was startled, to say the least. I looked into you but found nothing. Eventually, I discovered you lived in a certain mansion. I put two and two together, realizing you were an undying. Not just any undying, but one who used to be human."

She adjusted her glasses again, a knowing expression on her face. "The Evernight girl who turned you doesn't care about humans. Why would she? Her family is known for their ruthlessness, even to one of their own. It's their nature. The Strigoi behind this is called Zagarath.

He was sent here to assassinate her. Something changed, and now he's building power for reasons I don't fully understand."

Alicarde silently listened, making his own conjectures, but he didn't voice them. He just listened.

"Alicarde, I need you. You are from this world. You understand humans better than they do, and you would want to protect them from supernatural threats. As we speak, more than seven hundred people are dead or transformed. I have no power," her voice was forlorn.

"That's why I need you to be my sword, to right this injustice," her eyes were intense.

"I promise I will make it worth your while. I may not be able to fight, but I can support you. If you assist me, I will trade the knowledge of magic in my grimoire."

"A human, yeah right. I'm not the only human around. What about the Order, the experts in killing the supernatural? Or the magician's guild? Any of them would be a better choice."

"No, they would not. Each of these organizations has their own personal interests. I would much rather stay far away from the Order and their knights," Malefica's expression turned cold.

"Why not?" Alicarde asked.

Malefica frowned, "It's personal. I'd rather not say."

"Fine, whatever," Alicarde muttered, dismissing the witch.

Alicarde felt the weight of his exhaustion, the trauma of the night pressing down on him. His instincts screamed to be cautious, but something in Malefica's eyes—a sincerity, a shared sense of purpose—gave him pause. He wasn't interested in helping her just yet.

"Are you interested?" Malefica asked.

He stayed silent, pondering the possibilities. He glanced at his charred clothes, still wet from the sea, remembering how Zagarath had bombarded him with fireball spells.

"I'm not interested," he finally said, lowering his sword, though keeping it within reach.

"You will be. Your eyes say so," Malefica glanced at him briefly.

"First, we need to get to a safe place. The Strigoi may still be hunting you, and we need to prepare for what's to come."

Alicarde nodded, though his mind was still a storm of doubt and distrust. "Alright. But one wrong move, and I won't hesitate."

"Understood," Malefica said, her voice unwavering. "Let's focus on surviving the night. We'll need each other for what's ahead."

As the car sped through the city, Alicarde's grip on his sword loosened slightly, though his vigilance remained. He had no choice but to place a tentative trust in Malefica, hoping that she truly was the ally she claimed to be.

The humiliation of his defeat was still a glaring scar on his heart, the neon city lights casting fleeting shadows on his face, deepening his doubts and fears. Anne remained unconscious, her breathing steady, and Lily too was soaked to the bone from the icy embrace of the sea.

They drove through the night until Malefica stopped at a hospital parking lot. Something about this place felt eerily familiar to Alicarde. Malefica opened the back door and waved her hand, a dim flash of light illuminating the still-unconscious Lily.

Alicarde felt a faint wave of mana. The girl stirred a little, and he tightened his grip on his sword, ready for any threat. But his fears were unfounded, the light merely healed her. Her clothes were now undamaged, free from bruises, blood, dust, or soot.

Malefica glanced at him as she finished her magic. "Alicarde, I don't think you need to worry about me. As I said, I am not your enemy. I'm going to take her to the hospital. This one will be the safest from Strigoi attacks, I can promise you that."

Alicarde watched as she carried Lily into the hospital. He sat back in the car with the unconscious Anne, finally allowing himself to relax a little. His doubts about Malefica lingered. She was still an enigma. For now, he believed her, but he couldn't fully let his guard down.

His heart, already burdened by exhaustion, now carried a deeper pain. It was different, but familiar—like the one he had felt watching Argint cry at her brother's grave. He was tired of seeing people die. He raised his hand, looking down at his palms.

'Some of the monsters I killed today were once people,' he thought, recalling the ones who had transformed, while others died halfway through their change.

His emotions caught up with him. He clenched his fist, unsure of what to do. Killing had become a necessity in this new life. Carrisa had trained him to be less averse to taking lives, preparing him for this.

Even so, the guilt lingered. He wondered if the people he had killed had families who would mourn them, standing by their tombstones. Was he supposed to care for every life now? No, that wasn't possible. He had to protect what mattered to him most. He lowered his head, his thoughts spiraling into a dark place.

His thoughts were interrupted when Malefica returned, alone. She had dropped Lily off at the hospital. The police would eventually get involved, as would any family she had left. Alicarde knew all too well that the mental scars would take much longer to heal. He was a student of psychology, after all.

Malefica drove them to another district, not far from the university or the mansion. Alicarde thought of Carrisa. She must have found out by now, she had told him that his phone had a tracker installed. They stopped at a luxurious house in an upscale neighborhood. He wasn't surprised anymore—no way a professor could afford this, but a thousand-year-old witch could.

If she couldn't, it would mean she had wasted her millennia.

Alicarde stepped out, staring at the house. He hoped he and Anne wouldn't end up like Hansel and Gretel.