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His Witch, Her Demon

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(THERE IS A REVISED VERSION ON MY PROFILE, PLEASE CHECK IT OUT) Six years after he leaves her, he returns asking for her help........................ But, will she? How she feels: “How dare you! After six years, now you want to show up! Gods, you can’t be serious! I thought you were dead! You must be seriously screwed up in the head to think I’ll ever forgive you.” How he feels: “I need your help. I know I messed up and I’m sorry.”

Fantasy / Adventure
4.7 3 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

The witch stormed into her small cottage house. She turned, furiously, back around to face the demon before her. “How dare you! After six years, now you want to show up! Gods, you can’t be serious! I thought you were dead! You must be seriously screwed up in the head to think I’ll ever forgive you.”

Until now, Minerva Hallewell was rehearsing more spells outside the cottage with her hand-written spell book lying on the flat and fresh green grass. She was in the middle of chanting a few extraneous and anagogic words before she sensed another presence near her and halted in her chanting. It sure wasn’t an animal. This presence felt familiar and pure. A demon. And, Minerva only knew of one demon.

The demon watched as she stood there screaming at him. Aamon Blackthorn should’ve known she wouldn’t be easy to make amends with. That, Minerva would react like this. She always had a fiery temper. Especially, when it involved to him. Aamon got lost in his thoughts recalling a time when they were young. Aamon had woken up Minerva with a pail of cool water and she was so pissed, she pushed him in the freezing cold lake behind her small cottage house. The lake was full of tiny ankle-biting water nymphs. It hurt like hell. Aamon was fully aware that this current situation would result in something much worse.

“Why did you leave? Why are you back?” Minerva demanded from Aamon. She set her spell book on the wooden dining table beside her and crossed her arms across her chest waiting for him to answer.

It took awhile for him to answer before replying.

“I need your help. Please, Minerva. I know I messed up and I’m sorry, but I didn’t choose to leave in the first place, I was taken. And I couldn’t come back. My reason for being away for such a long time was because I was on the run and I didn’t want to get you involved.”

“On the run for what?” She uncrossed her arms from over her chest.

“Butchering an entire village in the North. He made me butcher and slaughter them all.”

“It was for Him?” Aamon nodded in response and Minerva’s slight frown on her face shifted to a confused expression as she asked, “If you’re not on the run anymore, then, what do you need my help for?”

“I want him dead,” he answered, as he set his sword down on the table.

Minerva noticed the steady look on his face and the harsh tone of his voice. So, she asked him, “Just for forcing you to kill the lives of over hundreds of people or for something else?”

He didn’t answer. Aamon just sat in the wooden chair, looking down at his black boots.

Her eyebrows furrowed when she came to a realization. “There was a deal and a price…”

Minerva could’ve sworn she saw Aamon’s soulless red eyes glance up at her for a split second before going right back to his boots. She strolled over to him. Minerva leaned towards him, and gracefully, put set her hand on his shoulder. “What was it, Aamon?”

It was the first time she’s said his name since he’s been here and she hoped it would get him to talk. Still, no answer. That’s when Minerva lost it. She detached her hand from his shoulder and screamed in frustration. “I swear to the gods, Aamon, if you don't--”

“He threatened you, Minerva! He had his recruits, The Black-Eyed Beings, beat me till I obliged. Chained me up, beat, and burned me half to death. If I refused to kill those lives of over hundreds of people, it would’ve been yours instead. I know I’m selfish for not wanting my only friend, ever, dead! Especially, by my own hands! So, I did what I was told even though, the result was being accounted for the deaths of over hundreds of lives, being on the run and not seeing you for six years. Look, I’ve missed you, terribly. And, I didn’t want to kill those people or to be responsible for your death.” During his time telling Minerva the truth, he had stood up out of his chair. Now, he was breathing heavily and waiting for her to say something. Anything.

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