A Witch's Game | ✓

9 | Revenge Well Served

05/01/1904

A pair of hands met in a loud clap and she threw her head back in the air, blood rushing to her face and mouth opened in for a laugh. Mason, taking the chance, sneakily plucked a grape from her basket, then hurling it in. He shut his lips, laughing along.

"Thanks for the laugh." Katherine stopped to breathe in, displaying her gratitude with a pat on his forearm. A second passed without a response and the lull atmosphere had her spare him a glance with tensed brows. "What is the matter?"

Mason replied with a low voice and a shake of his head. "Nothing." Katherine nudged him, neglecting the perceptible, solemn answer. "Come on, open up the chest of secrets."

He chuckled, staring down on the running road, and it only took him a minute to do as she said. "If I ever did something unforgettable, would you forgive me?"

She tapped her chin in thought. "That's a tough question." Katherine pursed her lips. The words slowly created their path to her heart as it heavied. "Maybe I'll," The answer made Mason's lips twitch, then they were pulled down. "Or maybe, I'll not." She shrugged.

"But if that ever happens," Katherine wiggled her brows at him with a strange glint in her eyes and he gave her a knowing look. "You know what to do." He rolled his eyes and added after her. "Yes, cast a spell on you so that you forget about it."

Then it was back again, the laughs and smiles with hitting hands as it dawned on them that they did had the insanity to do the said thing.

The wind whirling in distance scarcely swirled around him, whispering warnings just above his ear. The sky was a hollow, sad and lacking the stars as he walked past the shut door of houses.

A sudden announcement of a meeting had caused him to sit stick to his seat and watch the sun wave at him from afar. Terry walked, embracing the darkness, having to live thousands of days and nights had emptied him of any fear. That is, until the brisk sounds of footsteps caught up with his, yet he didn't react nor looked back to see who it was.

He fastened his pace and so did the person's. He'd be spitting white lies if he said that he didn't feel an emotion, precisely, fear. Terry merely moved his head to a side and from the corner of his eyes, he descried a girl and she quickly captured his gaze.

"Hello, sir." The young lady bobbed her head with a grin and he sighed in relief. Feeling obligated, he replied with slight and obvious discomfort.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was following you but, actually, my home is that way only." She roamed her eyes over the sweat coating his forehead. "No, no," He blurted, a pure lie and skimmed them off his skin. "It is fine."

After the short and rather forced talk, Terry sprinted discreetly to test if the lady would follow suit as he just couldn't shake off the feeling that the woman wasn't trailing after him and when there wasn't a difference in their pace, he closed his eyes and began to pray for his life, unaware of how nothing was on his side anymore.

Terry felt a presence behind him, seeping into the pores of his skin and his first instinct was to bend down, twirl and throw a kick at the lady's leg but it wasn't a mere thought rather an action that he couldn't find it in himself to make. So, with a clench of his fist, he gathered every ounce of humbleness left in him to fend off the lady.

But had he heeded his locale, he would've felt an arm ghostly coiling his neck.

The lady gently bumped the side of her head with his. "Hello, old friend." She trailed off, her voice nothing more than a whisper in the quiet night, a whisper that caused a chill to oscillate his spine. "Did you deem my endeavour to detect you would be fruitless, my disloyal servant?"