"Vienna" (✓)
  • Reads 494
  • Votes 196
  • Parts 63
  • Time 9h 5m
  • Reads 494
  • Votes 196
  • Parts 63
  • Time 9h 5m
Complete, First published Jul 30, 2020
Vienna wanted a normal life, as normal as a witch can be. That's what she aimed when she moved to London. However, fate has a different agenda to offer, there she met a fellow witch whose job as a cop inspired her and brought out the inner desire she had to help.

She came across a few amounts of trouble by helping, including romantic troubles, but she was never fazed. When a friend of hers needed help, she's into it no matter the consequences. Of course it ain't only consequences that's what fate brought her, it may also be, herself.

Most of the time, we help because we know we have the ability to. Not for Vienna though, for every soul she helped might open up a piece of her abilities.


--------------------


"Vienna, I have a question."

"What is it Dark?"

"Is there a way to make me human again?" I looked at him with uncertainty.

"I'll try to find out."

"You're a witch, can't you cast a spell on me or something?"

"It doesn't work that way Dark, but I'm gonna try to find out what I can. I'll help you. If I can't help you become a human again, I can at least help you accept what you are now." with that said, I went upstairs and into Gibson's dinning room, he sat there wearing a fit white shirt and a plate of beef infront. I sat down across him and started cutting down the meat.

"What took you so long?" he asked as he started digging in as well.

"He gained a little control of himself and wanted to become human again."

"If he wants to commit suicide, he can do that."

"So you mean there's a way to make him human again?"

"Yeah but nobody does that."

"Do you know how?" he looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"If you'd care to read the witch history book, you'd know."

"I think I have a copy in my case, am gonna check it out later."

"Let me guess, you want to help him?"

"Why not? I helped you, I guess I can do the same for him."

"You can be a helper witch now, you know that?"

"Well I am gonna be honored to be."


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He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*
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Reaping The Red Heir

51 parts Ongoing Mature

He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*