Brewing Them

Chapter 4

I lay awake in the middle of the night, wondering about my mother's words. Before I could leave the kitchen, she said, 'Don't go there again, Viv. It's a dark place and I don't want you anywhere near it. You barely made it back to me the last time. I cannot bear to see you as that anymore.' There was a fear in her voice and it was valid, to say the least. I promised her I wouldn't come to dark magic and she believed me.

Just like she always did.

A strange stench reached my nostrils before I lunged up from the bed and rushed downstairs, back into the basement. There would be a hundred questions asked if the smell reached my mother's bedroom.

I hoped she was asleep.

When I entered, the basement reeked of a pungent, sickening smell as if something had gone terribly wrong. My hand reached up to my mouth and nose as I covered it before investigating what had happened.

A small gasp escaped my throat upon finding the bottle shattered on the table. The small image of the pentacle Alexandria Sven had given me was in the open and the blood around it had dried—my blood.

Fuck.

I picked the paper carefully and rested it on the side, above a few books before cleaning the rest of the mess. There were hundreds of reasons why something like this could go wrong. Maybe the men Alexandria wanted me to find were protected by another witch or maybe they were witches themselves.

If that was the reason, I could never find them.

I cleared the small glass pieces and threw a piece of torn cloth above the paper soaked in my blood before burning some sage and hoping the pungent smell would go away on its own.

I returned to my room moments later and slipped the sheets above me. It was thirty minutes past midnight yet I was wide awake—there was something keeping me awake. Now, after the broken bottle, I thought more of the curse and what exactly Alexandria wanted from me. As much as I tried, I could escape from my own thoughts.

Tossing back and forth on the bed, I grew exhausted. My heart raced. Sweat formed over my forehead as I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if my mother was right.

There were evil effects of practicing black magic and I had done it again.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself while racing my fingers across my head.

My eyes pressed shut tight.

I lowered my hand and unbuttoned the shirt. My skin gleamed with slick as I removed my clothes and tossed them over the couch resting beside the window. It was hot and I was drenched.

Pushing aside the sheets, I splayed my legs wide and lowered my fingers over my throbbing clit to relieve some of the stress from my body. My thoughts shifted suddenly.

I let my fingers run in circles before lowering them and pushing them inside. My back arched. An involuntary moan left my throat. Wetness slicked around my fingers as I thrust them in and out, imagining someone doing the same, maybe even more. I had never bore anyone inside. The longer I waited, the more curious I grew about it and now it was something I desired to experience.

My feet brushed over the sheets as my other hand tightened around the inside of my thigh, fingers inching closer to my clit. I pushed my head back and quickened the speed of my fingers as my lower belly grew warm and tight.

At the peak of my climax, my insides clenched and tightened around my fingers before a vision appeared in front of me. It was a blur, but I noticed the details of it.

A bar in the south, only miles away from town, and a man, blonde-haired, drinking beer.

When my eyes fluttered open, I gasped and my orgasm flooded. My body grew cold while my thighs continued to quiver.

I breathed heavily before pulling my drenched fingers out and resting on the bed. It took me a moment to realize what I had seen.

The spell worked.

I had seen a vision, it was odd, but it was something.

After taking a cold shower, and cleaning myself up, I returned outside and noticed I had stopped sweating. The room was ice-cold, just as it was supposed to be but a moment earlier, I felt suffocated and hot.

When I returned to bed, I dozed off quickly and woke up the next morning to figure out what the vision meant.

"Tough night?" My mother asked while pointing out the dark circles that had appeared under my eyes.

"A little."

The stench from the basement had long gone. My mother didn't notice anything wrong and I hoped it would stay that way.

"What do you want to have for lunch?" She asked while having her midday tea.

"Nothing," I shook my head, my eyes focused on the map on my phone. I tried to find out the closest bar outside of the town. "I might head out in a bit. I've to meet a friend. She's in town." I quickly said, making up a lie.

"Who?"

"Amelia," I looked up at her and found her even more curious. "From high school?"

"Ah, yes! I remember that child. Well then, I'll see you for dinner."

A few hours later, I was against the large mirror inside my bedroom, brushing my hair straight and looking a bit presentable to head outside. By the week's end, one of Alexandria's men was going to visit the town and visit me to receive an update about the marked men she needed.

She had asked me to stay in her estate and offered her protection while practicing the magic I required to find the men for her but I denied her offer as I needed to be at home, with my mother in order to do anything.

I couldn't leave my mother.

My face was pale in the mirror, my hair straight and black while my eyes were a light shade of green. It was my father's eyes that I had gotten and since I learned that, I wanted to gauge them out.

A small scar ran below my right eye and another one above my left cheek. It was also something my father had given me just a couple of days before his demise.

I applied some powder over my cheek and grabbed my bag before heading outside. The sun gleamed over my face as I made my way into my car and turned the engine. It made a little noise before it picked up and got on the road beside my house.

After my father's death, I had taken everything—his house, his car, his money, and even all the land he owned. I enjoyed taking them all and putting them under my name even when he clearly wrote me off from his will.

It wasn't hard to convince the mayor and with a little bribe, everything was mine.

I laughed over his grave days later and taunted him every night by sleeping comfortably in his house, where he had kicked me out from.

By the time I got on the road outside the town, I noticed the snow covering half of the town. It was a cold sight, one I hoped I'd see less of it this winter.

The closest town to Woodpine was Rutherham where a popular bar was located. People, monsters from all over the world visited the bar in winter. It was known for its beer and one of its sandwiches. A thirty-minute drive later, I was outside the Old Pie Bar, wondering what exactly I was looking for here. There was no clear description in the vision I had seen.

It could have been any bar in the world.

Why this?

I sat back in my car, watching the groups of men rush into the fairly large bar that was below a small, four-story building. Near the entrance, there were a few women, barely covered, teasing men on their way in and out. Some of them gave in while others brushed them off.

My heart raced upon finding a man having a woman against the wall. I leaned forward, watching closely as his head disappeared into her neck. Rolling the window down, I tried to hear if she screamed, but she hadn't.

When he finally pulled his neck away from her throat, there was blood over her flesh but a smile on her face.

Night eaters.

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