Married To The Mad Vampire Lord-Chapter 79: Determined to kill

While Rohan watched over his wife, in another part of Nightbrook—deep in the forest known as Grimvale—a figure in a dark blue, flowing cloak moved through the trees without fear of what might lurk in the dense shadows.

A lamp was held poised in the figure’s left hand, while the right hand, hidden beneath the cloak, clutched a bundled object. The figure had arrived on horseback but left the animal tied at the edge of the vast forest—one so expansive that it was said a person could never walk it all in a week.

Grimvale was one of the largest forests in Nightbrook. Winding paths within it led to different towns, villages, and even the royal castle. The cloaked figure moved quickly, undeterred by the wet ground, the occasional flash of lightning, and the rumble of thunder that echoed through the dark sky, giving the atmosphere a grim, eerie peninsula-like feel.

When one is determined to end the life of someone who stood in the way of their success and achievements, nothing else could frighten them—not even a dark forest that, according to rumors, held many rogues.

Far at the end of the trail the figure followed stood a small, old house nestled among the trees. Faint light flickered from within its narrow windows. When the figure reached the door, a soft female voice sounded from within the cloak’s hood.

"I am back!" the cloaked woman exclaimed, her voice slightly impatient. "Are you home? I’ve come back!" frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

There was the sound of rustling from within the house, and then the wooden door creaked open. An aged woman appeared, her back hunched and her disheveled grey hair hanging down her deeply wrinkled face. A few teeth were missing from her dry mouth when she smiled, giving her a grotesque look.

"You came back so soon, my dear. I can tell you’re more desperate than I am," said the elderly woman. Strangely, her voice was smooth and youthful—completely mismatched with her aged appearance.

"Did you bring what we agreed on?" she asked, eyeing the other woman’s cloak.

"Yes, I brought it. Here it is," the cloaked woman replied and revealed the bundle hidden in her cloak. It was an infant, softly wailing. "It took me hours to get my hands on the baby. Her mother was stupid enough to leave the child outside the house to attend to her husband."

The old woman—who was none other than a dark witch—grinned with malicious delight, her toothless smile making her appear even more sinister.

"A very young child. She’ll do just fine," she said. "What about the other thing I told you I needed to curse the woman to her death? Did you bring it too?"

"Yes. I brought a strand of her hair," the cloaked woman replied with a snarl of resentment. She pulled out several long, golden blonde strands. The very sight of the hair made her hatred boil.

The witch gestured for her to enter, and she stepped into the cramped house where the air smelled of rotting fruit and decaying rats. She resisted the urge to cover her nose with her scented cloak, choosing instead to remain impassive as her eyes took in the surroundings. A fire burned in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across a large wooden table stained with dried blood. Small jars of strange liquids lined the shelves, and a bubbling pot of black liquid simmered, sending up noxious fumes.

She watched as the witch placed the crying infant inside a small cage and locked it up.

"She’s a fine girl. She will do well for my beauty potion," said the witch, turning away from the cage and ignoring the child’s wails. "Where’s the hair strand?"

The cloaked woman handed it over.

"Once I curse her to her death, the husband will fall deeply in love with you and give you everything you’ve ever wanted," the witch snarled, then tossed the golden strands into the boiling pot. As she began to chant dark spells, the table rattled, the candles flickered, and a red light glowed from within the pot where she dipped a stick into it.

Few seconds later, she dipped her hand into the brew and pulled out the stick now tightly wrapped in black thread.

"Here. The curse has been placed. All you have to do is slip this beneath her pillow while she sleeps or any where she may sit on. She shall never see the rise of the next morning."

"What about the potion to make the husband love me?" asked the cloaked woman, her voice filled with eager hope as she took the charm, smiling with satisfaction. Days ago, she had come to the witch with desperation in her heart to get rid of lady Dagon so she could have a chance with Rohan Dagon. The witch had agreed to help her—on the condition that she bring her a young, beautiful girl. She had found the infant in a nearby town, luck striking when she saw the child left unattended in a basket.

"Once the wife is dead, the husband will naturally love you," the witch said dismissively. "It’s an all-in-one spell that lasts until the end of time. I like desperate women like you who want what belongs to another. You give us witches anything we ask for in return."

The witch laughed, already imagining herself restoring her beauty again with the infant brought to her in exchange for the death charm. She didn’t care who the other woman wanted to kill, as long as she had already gotten what she wanted now. "Make sure she places her head on the pillow in the next three days, or the charm will not work as effectively."

The cloaked woman barely heard her anymore. Her mind was already consumed with images of the life she would soon have with the man she had desired for so long. It was cruel, she thought, that she was more beautiful than the woman he married, yet he had never once looked her way.

Stealing the strands of hair had been as easy as taking the infant.

"You never saw me," she said coldly, watching the witch turn away again, now focused on preparing her own potion of youth with a dismissive wave of her hands for the other woman to leave.

Without another word, the cloaked woman stepped back into the forest and disappeared into the night, determined to kill to get what she wanted in life.