A Grim Fairy Tale

Chapter Ninety-One

"Well, that didn't go as planned." Striker muttered to himself, watching as Alastor, Charlotte, and the others slipped away from the mob. He had been certain that instilling fear and panic would send the paranoid fools scattering, but he had underestimated their cleverness and loyalty to one another.

Yet, he refused to give up. He couldn't afford to. If Charlotte wasn't dead by the end of the week, he would find himself in a predicament worse than any he had faced in his life. Once the chaos settled, he put his cunning mind to work and devised a devilishly sinister plan. He wasn't just a hunter who stalked his prey; he studied them, uncovering their strengths and weaknesses. Now, he had three crucial pieces of information: the prince of Poland was in town, Vagatha had inherited some of her mother's and grandmother's craft, and Alastor and Charlotte were in love. He intended to exploit all of this against them.

First, he messaged Desdemona, informing her about the prince and where to find him, knowing she would use this information to further gain King Vincent's favor. Next, he penned two notes and, in his wolf form, intimidated two birds into delivering one note each to Alastor and Charlotte. The following morning, both found a note waiting on their window sills, which read:

My dearest Charlotte/Alastor,

Meet me by the old oak tree at the center of the forest at sundown. There's something important I wish to discuss with you. Alone.

Forever yours,
Alastor/Charlotte.

As dawn broke over the horizon, casting a soft golden light through the window, Alastor and Charlotte each stared at the note that had appeared on their respective window sills. The words danced before their eyes, the ink still fresh and the message clear.

Alastor's heart raced as he read the note addressed to him. Charlotte wanted to meet with him alone? There was something important to tell him? What was it? The anticipation bubbled within him, a mix of excitement and apprehension. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever Charlotte had to say could change everything.

Meanwhile, Charlotte sat on her bed, her heart pounding as she reread the note. The implications sent her thoughts spiraling. Did he want to discuss their kiss? Or perhaps the feelings that had been brewing between them? She felt a rush of warmth at the thought, but also a pang of anxiety. What if he regretted it? What if he wanted to distance himself after their moment together?

The day dragged on for both Alastor and Charlotte, each lost in their thoughts as they prepared for the meeting that loomed ahead. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows and warming the ground, but neither of them felt the heat. Instead, they were consumed by the uncertainty of what the evening would bring.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Alastor found himself pacing back and forth in front of the oak tree. What was she going to say? What would he say? "I love you?" Is that what was going to take place here? Sweet words and confessions of love and desire to share a life with him?

But unbeknownst to him, Striker watched from the shadows, his eyes narrowed with malice.

"Good, he got here first." He chuckled darkly. He reached for the potion, Desdemona had given him and unscrewed the cap. Next he poured it into the ground and the scent started to rise.

As the dark mist began to swirl around the base of the ancient oak tree, Striker stepped back, a wicked grin spreading across his face. The potion's fumes danced in the air, carrying with them the promise of chaos and bloodshed. He could already envision the scene that would unfold—the moment when Alastor would breathe in the dark magic and succumb to the primal instincts that lay dormant within him.