Page 6 of Dark Desire (Dark Souls Spin-off Short Story)

Chapter Four

“ G lad to see you finally figured out how to use that phone I gave you. Even if it took you three days, six unanswered texts and three missed calls to call me back,” my brother’s voice boomed from over my shoulder as he approached through the trees.

“Were you seen?” I ignored his digs and kept my eyes fixed on the church in the distance as I leaned against a tree trunk with one shoulder.

“Of course not. I flew high and avoided the village as you said,” he replied, stopping beside me and folding his arms over his chest. His mossy green eyes, which were similar to mine, narrowed on the church. “So, the mysterious witch is in there?”

“Yeah. But she should leave soon for work. Once she does, I need you to try to enter the graveyard. I have a theory about the kind of spell she has used to keep me out.”

“And you are positive this is the witch that cursed you? How are you so sure?”

I paused for a beat. How was I so certain without any concrete evidence?

Gut instinct? No, it was more than that.

“Her magic. It drew me here, called to me and repelled me all at once. After centuries of feeling it flowing through my veins, keeping me under her spell, I recognised its scent in the air. It dominates that church. I have no doubt it is her.”

Luka inhaled deeply, as if trying to catch its scent. His nose wrinkled and he frowned. “The only thing I can smell lingering in the air is a pretty fresh corpse.”

“That’s the second reason you’re here.”

His head snapped towards me and he groaned. “Z! I vouched for you. Please tell me they at least deserved it.”

“I haven’t killed anyone. But nice to see you have so much faith in me,” I teased, smirking slightly as he swallowed thickly. “She did.” I pointed towards the church just as the front door swung open.

Darcelle Knightsbridge, the murderous little witch, slung her bag and camera strap over her shoulder and spun around to lock the door.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she made her way through the overgrown graveyard, pausing for a second to cast her gaze down on Mr Tippel’s grave before continuing out of the gate.

Her black curls bounced around her shoulders as she placed headphones over her ears and began to sing.

Her raspy, sexy-as-sin voice floated on the morning breeze, and I had to fight the urge not to slam my hands over my ears because I hated the reaction my body had to her melody.

Instead, I stood rigid, glaring, with a muscle repeatedly twitching in my jaw.

Luka had remained silent the entire time, watching her go before he finally turned to me and raised one eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, already knowing exactly what he was thinking, and pushed off the tree to walk ahead.

“She looks…different to what I imagined,” he said from behind, following me towards the path.

I grunted in response.

“Youthful for a witch of her age. And way prettier than the old hag I had conjured up. Gorgeous even.”

“Ilaria will be pleased that you find her so bewitching,” I growled. His comments pissed me off because I didn’t need the reminder that this would be far easier to do if I didn’t find her so attractive.

He scoffed. “Ilaria knows no one in the world compares to her in my eyes. And I'm just making an observation. The witch isn’t my type, but she is most definitely yours, from what I remember.”

I didn’t respond, hoping he would shut the fuck up, but this was my annoying little brother who liked to push boundaries, so of course, he carried on.

“Dark hair. Pretty eyes. Curvy. Sexy voice too. Timeless beauty but with a quirky edge. Your ideal woman in the looks department. Are you sure you want to kill her?”

“Positive.”

“And you don’t feel anything but hate towards the witch?”

I spun around, making him slam into my chest and stumble back a step. Glaring, I clenched my teeth and snarled, “Brother. If there is something you want to say, just say it.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but maybe it was the malicious look in my eyes that made him reconsider.

I had no intention of revealing that Darcelle Knightsbridge was my soulmate.

The woman I was meant to spend eternity with.

The woman whose soul I was destined to claim in this life and the next.

He had just found his, fallen madly in love, and wouldn’t understand.

He’d expect me to change my entire purpose and forgive her.

And he would most certainly try to talk me out of killing her.

Perhaps he’d even look at me differently when I refused.

Finding a soulmate changes people. Often for the better, like Luka’s case, but sometimes for the worse.

He’d never realise how truly lucky he was. His soulmate loved him unconditionally and saved him. Mine cursed me and abandoned me. Darcelle Knightsbridge saw a Demonski Upir as her soulmate and fled, and she’s been running from me ever since. There was no redemption for that.

Turning back to the church, I stopped just outside the fenced graveyard and rolled my shoulders. The thickness and electric charge of her magic clawed at my skin from this close, making it tingle and shudder in pleasure and disgust. Even my reaction to her magic was confusing.

“I can’t get beyond this point. It keeps me out,” I explained. “I need you to try.”

“What makes you think I’ll be able to get through?” Luka asked, lifting his hand forward and waving it through the invisible barrier. I clenched my jaw. I was right.

“Just a hunch.”

The creak of the gate echoed around us as he pushed it open and stepped through without any resistance from her magic.

Looking over his shoulder at me in surprise, I nodded to encourage him to continue.

I watched as he strolled along the winding pathway scattered with crystals until he reached the marked grave she had reburied last night.

“Stop there.”

His nostrils widened as he took in the stench of that man’s decaying body in the dirt.

“I need you to dig up that corpse.”

His head snapped back to me. “What?”

“Don’t get fucking squeamish on me now, Luka. I have seen you do way worse.”

“I’m not. But why the fuck do I need to dig up a grave? If you’re hungry, you know you can use the green list of approved criminals to feed from. You don’t need to–”

“She killed a man and buried him there last night. I want to know who he is.”

“Won’t she realise the grave has been tampered with?”

“I’m counting on it.”

He shook his head but, like the loyal brother he was, dropped to his knees and used his vampire speed to dig rapidly.

I glanced over my shoulder to ensure the coast was clear while he worked.

After dropping into the ditch, he groaned as he slung the stiff body over his shoulder and tossed it onto the grass.

“Bring him here,” I ordered as he climbed out and put his hands on his hips, dirt covering his clothes and hands. He raised a snarky eyebrow. “Please.”

“What about the grave?”

“Leave it. I've got a plan for that,” I answered with a smirk. Luka dragged the man's body back over the magical border by his ankles and dropped him at my feet. I bent down, grasping the man’s jaw in my hand to study his face. Rigor mortis was definitely setting in, given the tightness of his facial muscles and the temperature of his skin, which suggested he had been dead for at least sixteen hours, but not much longer. I rolled him onto his side, lifted his shirt, and let out a sigh. From the purple-reddish discolouration at the lowest part of his body, it was clear his blood had already coagulated. “Shame. His blood won’t be much use anymore. But his organs are still pretty fresh.”

Luka scanned the hills with a frown.

“It was a joke.” I chuckled, only half joking.

Ambroz was still quite hungry, and the temptation was there.

Flipping open the man’s jacket, I searched all his pockets.

Fuck. No ID or personal items. She must have removed them, or perhaps he never had any on him to begin with.

I started searching his entire body for any fatal wounds or injuries.

As I expected, there were no outward signs of murder. He was killed by her magic.

“Verdict?” Luka asked as I paused on a strange flesh mark on the man’s shoulder.

Squinting my eyes and tilting my head to try and make sense of the symbols, I frowned.

It looked almost like a tattoo but without ink.

He’d been branded. Three swirling patterns merged to form a triangle, with the outline of an eye at each corner.

“She definitely killed him but look at this. Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

Luka bent down and ran his finger over the raised skin. “No. Never.” He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and took a picture. “I’ll do some research. I am sure the royals will know something or I can ask Alina to search the Council archives.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you find anything. When is Leif visiting from Heroux?”

“He should be home for family night in two days. Why?”

“I need to know how she is keeping me out of that church. There are several intricate layers of protection spells, but since you managed to pass them, and I’ve seen a villager come and go as well, I now realise it was specifically designed to keep me out. She knew one day I’d come for her.”

“Well, I’d offer to kill her for you myself but I know that isn’t an option.”

With a swift jerk, I grabbed the man’s blonde hair and tore his head from his body with full force. Luka didn’t even flinch at the brutality. “No. That's not an option. She’s mine,” I growled. His eyebrow rose slightly at the possessiveness in my tone. “To kill.”

He nodded once, then cast his eyes down at the dangling head in my hand. “Do I even want to know what you plan on doing with that?”

“Probably not.” I kicked the headless corpse on the floor. “Do your big brother a favour and drop that in the sea on your way back to the Romanos. I’ve got what I needed.”