The Witch's Devil

Chapter 22, Flames

Embers POV~

Rich deep blue flames burst into the room. A large smile grew across my face. Surrounding Alastor and I in a gentle guiding warmth— mischievous giggles sounding upon their arrival. Falling back into Alastor's form, I nuzzle into his chest as I look up to his adorably lost expression.

Placing a hand on his strong chest. His heartbeat raced with untold speed. Matching the thundering of my own. I couldn't explain the overwhelming emotions rushing in my veins. Excitement, playfulness, and so many more. A kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach.

"Will-ó-the-wisps." I whispered against his cheek.

"You. . . Can't be serious. . ."

"Oh, but I am," purring sweetly to him, "I am dead serious." I whispered against the shell of his pointed ear.

Alastor wrapped a cautious arm around my waist. Eyes fluttering with disbelief, lips parted in stunned silence. He looked adorable with that expression across his sharp features.

"M'lady! No! No! No! Don't tell this, this, this hell spawn our name!" An elder sounding will-ó flew up to meet me at eye level.

Looking at the elder with a raised brow. "There is no harm, Will-ó-the-wisp." Unable to hide my grin, I stood comfortably in Alastor's hold. "He won't harm you and yours, I promise."

"I don't like this one bit, m'lady." The poor thing grumbled and moaned, those pin blue dots for eyes closed with frustration. "Not one bit, I tell you."

Those words are cautious care for the folk that came with, brought a bigger smile to my lips. "That's fine, I promise to make it worth your while." Resting my body more into Alastor. His warmth seeped into my body, spreading much comfort.

These are such adorable small fae-folk who dress in various blue robes. This one talking was the oldest of them summoned here. In their deep sapphire robes. Their black oak staff with a lantern at its end housing their blue flame. Under the hood shrouded their figures in shadows. All that could be seen in those dark figures were their bright lit blue eyes.

Hearing a sultry— yet possessive, low growl from behind me. Rumbling through the very foundations of my soul. Going so far as scaring them— the mini grim reaper wisp backed away in terror. The rest all huddled behind the uncertain elder. Quivering.

"M'lady, please!" The elder threw me a plea, though those words were more of a demand. "That thing is scaring the others!"

That protective growl gave me butterflies in my stomach.  Avoiding the urge to roll my eyes. He wasn't going to do harm, I knew deep down he— Alastor, was a kind soul. Placing a gentle hand against his chest, planting my back into his chest. Shushing him softly, to soothe that unease towards the fae before us
The rumbling softened, while his grip tightened on me.

"He is fine now." I proclaimed.

The old fae grumbled, "It'll do."

"Good." I cleared my throat. "Now before anything else. . ."

Loosening a breath of relief. That's one way to calm a beast. To prevent a possible war of demon and fae. These neighbors were my friends— and I needed them at this moment. Creatures to guide lost souls to the right path, living or dead, this was a good place to start.

"I would like us to agree to the terms of a transaction with you will-ó-the-wisps— and parties involved." I spoke with clear intention. Firm in my decision. "I, the witch Ember Zippel, called you, the Will-ó-the-wisp here." Gesturing to Alastor with a head tilt. "Not so you can insult my dear..." hesitant for even this moment stung, "dear-"