Scarlet Vows

8.

I had to argue a lot with Aren before I could take my car out and head to the address that Bianca's men found for me. He was not happy about me going alone and I kept telling him that I wouldn't hesitate to lodge a bullet in that woman's skull if she tried anything funny. But, he came with me anyway and I had to park my car a lane away, persuading him to stay in it until I spoke to her and came back. If something were to happen, I promised him that I would scream and his vampire ears would definitely hear it.

As I walked to the address, I noticed how that part of the countryside rarely had any houses. And I soon realised why. When I reached the exact coordinates, an abandoned mansion stared back at me. Why would anyone build such an elaborate residence in a place that hardly had any human civilisation? Or, there was no human civilisation because of the mansion that appeared exactly like those haunted houses you'd see on TV. The high gates led me into a path laden by broken twigs and dried leaves. Bushes as tall as me lined the short way to the entrance of the place. Surprisingly, there was a gazebo right in the front, a worn out table in the centre and a few lanterns hanging from the hooks that were messily lodged into the concrete posts.

I took the few stairs to reach the porch and then the tall door. I was told that the boy's grandmother was the caretaker of the place and I wondered how no one questioned this arrangement. If something were to happen, robbery or a crime, how could an old woman defend herself and the mansion? Also, how was she able to afford her grandson's extravagant tuition fee? Most importantly, how was that boy commuting everyday to school from this secluded place?

The questions kept coming. I pushed the door open and found that the interiors were as creepy as the exteriors. I didn't bother closing the doors behind me. If I were to scream, I wanted Aren to hear. I felt the weight of my Desert Eagle in my tote bag and knew that I would be swift to pull the gun out and shoot if necessary. I expected media, police or some crowd to be here but considering that not a single soul lingered around the place, there must be a backstory that I was missing.

"Hello?" I called out, internally wincing at the cliched greeting. But, what else could I have said?

"Upstairs" I heard the serene voice, as if she spoke standing right behind me. I swirled around, so quickly that I almost lost my footing on the dusty floor. I blinked adjusting my eyes to the dim interiors and took the stairs that were right in front of me. There was no furniture there, no paintings on the wall, no flower vases and absolutely no lights. I could see thanks to the natural light seeping in through the few windows.

Upstairs, there were three rooms and only one door was ajar. I didn't need to be Sherlocks to figure out which one I had to go to. I walked toward the open door and stopped when I saw the old woman.

She was sitting on the ground, over a olive green carpet that was the only clean part of the entire room. She was clad in white, a long tunic and loose pants, her legs crossed and eyes closed as if in a meditative state. She had really long white hair, very thick and silky smooth. It cascaded down her back, probably below her hip. I wondered what kind of haircare routine would give one such healthy hair.

She opened her eyes slowly. Her eyes were so dark, so intense that the black part seemed to be pushing the white part to make more space for itself. Her hands that were resting on her lap now moved to her face. She ran them down the front and brought them to her chest, heaving a satisfied sigh.

Her lips lifted slightly and she said, "We can talk about my haircare routine after we talk about your fate."

I let out a scoff and took a step toward her, not at all scared or flustered with what she said, "Great, I am dealing with a psychic or a mind reader now."

Her eyes moved from my face to my bag, as if she knew that I was hiding a weapon there.

"Neither" she confirmed, "You are dealing with a witch."