Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227: The Demon_Part 1

The tall figure moved swiftly through the silent night streets of Bimmerville, his cloak flipping behind him with the wind as he effortlessly leapt over fences and buildings to find a shortcut to his destination. He had the hood of the cloak covering his face, but his steady gait and the arrogant way he walked could not be mistaken to identify who he was.

He leapt down from the roof of a house and fell steadily on his feet without making any noise to disturb the peaceful night, which was only interrupted by the loud, distant bark of the patrol dogs of the night guards.

He made his way over another fence and fell into a yard, and then he walked up the porch of the small house and raised his gloved finger to gently tap on the door twice before dropping his hand to his side. He waited for a few moments before the door cracked open gently, and he walked inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

The house was small compared to many of the fancy houses in Bimmerville, and the room he walked into was dimly lit with a steady flame in the small hearth. The house was made up like any normal home that one would never suspect who the owner of it was and what they were associated with.

The place was eerily silent and still, with no trace of the person he had come to meet in sight. Pulling his hood back from his head, his midnight eyes roamed around the room, where everything was neatly kept in place—from the couches to the center table and the flowers in the vase.

He walked deeper into the house, making his way down a dark corridor, passing several rooms before stopping at the one at the end. He entered what was supposed to be a bedroom but instead held tables and glass jars filled with strange-looking liquids, potions, he didn’t need to ask to know.

Walking to the table, his eyes were drawn to a potion bubbling inside a tightly sealed jar, as if it were desperate to burst free from its confinement. He narrowed his dark eyes in fascination and reached out a finger to steady the shaking jar, studying the bubbling purple liquid.

But a small sound from his left caught his attention. He stilled for only a moment before retrieving his hand from the jar—just as he caught sight of a figure in his peripheral vision, holding up a knife as if to stab him from behind. With lightning speed, he reappeared behind her, caught the back of her neck, and used his foot to kick the back of her knees, forcing her to collapse onto her knees with a groan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, when are you going to learn that attacking me from behind doesn’t work, woman?" Rohan said with a click of his tongue as he tightened his grip around the witch’s neck from behind until his claw dug into her skin. She grimaced in pain and tried to struggle away, but it was to no avail, as Rohan’s strength was not to be rivaled.

"What do you want from me again, demon?" she gritted furiously as she tried to turn her head and glare at the man who, since the day she had come to know him, had begun to make her life hell—when until now, she had lived in peace, secretly helping those who sought her out to do wickedness to their relatives with her dark magic.

She had enjoyed a peaceful life by making bargains with those who sought her help. But ever since this man had come to her house seeking what he called "assistance", somehow knowing she was a witch despite her careful disguise, her life had never been the same. In Bimmerville, where witches and any creature that wasn’t human were killed without mercy, his presence had become a dangerous curse. What did he want from her again this time?

"You know why I am here, witch, and I hope for your sake you have no dirty business up your sleeves—and that what I requested the last time I was here has been made. Or, oh, the devil help you, I will finish you off in a way not even death will recognize you," he said with humor in his voice as he looked down at the dark witch who had been living among humans in the form of a beautiful young lady, with long ebony hair and gray eyes—when in truth, she was a grotesque old witch, just like every one of her kind.

The witch felt his claw dig deeper into her neck and felt blood trail down to her chest. "Let go of me. I have the book and the potion," she gritted in pain, wanting him to let go. Had she not known from firsthand experience with this man, she would have chanted a spell to kill him or turn him into stone. But he was a demon—though not a strong demon, he still had that part in him.

Witches were inferior to demons. Witches sold their souls to high-ranked demons to get the powers they possessed by making a pact with them. Though this man had the blood in him, he was not up to the rank she would worship, but yet again, she could not kill him or harm him with any spell.

"Ask me nicely, and I will think about letting you go," came his mirth-filled voice as he cast her a look that said if she did anything wrong, he would kill her. "Don’t forget, you are not the only witch in this land. I know of all your sisters who you have meetings with every night of the full moon. I can seek them out after I kill you."

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify