Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210: Spreading The Rumour

As tears blurred Ruelle’s vision, the green smoke that had spread around them moments ago was completely swallowed by the black smoke, leaving behind only the lingering sting in the air that pricked at her nose and throat. It took her a second to realise the old witch was gone. The doorway stood empty and the house suddenly went quiet until Peyton’s voice rang from somewhere outside.

"Stop there!"

The hurried footsteps that followed grew fainter, making it obvious Peyton was chasing the witch. Ruelle instinctively turned back to Lucian, only for her face to turn pale. He calmly wiped the blood from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand as though it were nothing more than an inconvenience, yet the red staining his pale skin made her heart sink. Tears bled from the corners of his eyes.

"Lucian! Are you alright?" She crossed the distance between them almost without thinking, the question leaving her lips before she reached him.

"Master Lucian!" Claude hurried inside the house, only to stop abruptly after taking one breath. Raising a hand to cover his nose, he frowned at the lingering green haze that continued to drift through the place now.

"I am fine," Lucian answered, though another cough escaped him before he continued. "The witch filled the jars with toxins harmful to vampires. They were placed here for her protection."

"We need to take you to the physician," she whispered, hastily pulling the folded handkerchief from her pocket and her fingers trembled.

"I will be fine, Ruelle," Lucian took the handkerchief and lightly pressed the cloth beneath his eye. "The toxin will purge itself within a few minutes. Are you alright?"

Ruelle nodded immediately. He was the one who was bleeding and not her.

Lucian’s gaze slowly travelled across the house as they walked further inside. "Something wasn’t right about that witch. I made up the location spell and there’s far too much scent of that herb."

Ruelle had picked up the overpowering scent of herbs earlier. She looked towards Lucian and asked, "Do you think she was hiding the bodies of children?"

Lucian didn’t answer immediately. His gaze continued to move around the house as though following something only he could perceive. Finally, he stopped before an ordinary-looking stone wall. Resting his fingertips against the rough surface, he slowly traced along it before saying, "It’s coming from here."

Ruelle’s eyes followed his hand and she heard him say, "Step back and close your eyes."

She stepped back without questioning him. The next moment, Lucian swung his hand at the wall for it to crack. Dust and fragments of stone burst into the air, forcing her to shield her face until the cloud of dust gradually settled. When she opened her eyes again, part of the wall had collapsed inward, revealing a narrow passage hidden behind it.

The smell of herbs reached them immediately, which turned stronger with every cautious step they took into the darkness. Ruelle instinctively lifted her sleeve over her nose but the unmistakable stench of decay still found its way through the fabric, making her stomach tighten.

Following the sound of Lucian’s steps, Ruelle moved right behind him through the darkness, until they finally stopped. After a moment, the place was lit. Every single candle and the fireplace in there brightened the room. Their eyes immediately fell upon the figure of a woman lying motionless on the ground.

But upon a closer look, Ruelle’s hands turned cold at the sight of the woman’s face that was peeled out. Feeling her stomach twist she looked away from it.

On the other hand, Lucian crouched beside the body, his expression remaining unreadable as he examined the dried blood pooled beneath her. He said, "She’s been dead for several hours. The blood has already darkened. I would say somewhere between seven and eight hours."

Ruelle’s mind immediately returned to the woman they had spoken to only moments earlier. How was that even possible?

"...then who was with us?" she asked, feeling goosebumps raise on her skin. "She... she wasn’t a twin of this witch, was she?"

Lucian looked up at her from where he knelt. "No," came the answer without hesitation. "It was someone else. Someone who was using this witch."

"Is that even possible?" Ruelle struggled to comprehend what Lucian was suggesting. "The person would have to be the same height... the same build. Even the voice..." There were simply too many things that would have to change.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her eyes landed on a large iron pot resting in the corner of the chamber. She didn’t want to know what was inside. Yet the uneasy feeling that had settled in her chest only grew stronger the longer she stared at it. Before she realised it, her feet had already begun carrying her towards it. She instinctively raised the edge of her sleeve to cover her nose, the smell of blood becoming more distinct with every step.

Pieces of flesh floated amongst the darkened liquid and she tried hard not to throw up right now.

Lucian came to stand beside her, his gaze dropping into the pot before he said, "It resembles... Harold’s remains."

That’s what she thought too...

She had wanted to believe the old woman had merely been another misunderstood witch. She had offered a glimpse of her future and had lent her books. Had all of it been a lie? But she was lying here dead now.

Then another thought struck her with such force that it almost stole the air from her lungs.

"My father..." The words caught in her throat as the realisation. "The man who came back...That wasn’t really him, was it? Another witch?"

"It’s difficult to say."

Lucian picked up a piece of firewood and tossed it into the hearth before breathing fire into the dying embers. Orange light spread across the narrow chamber, revealing more clearly the bloodstains that marked the stone floor. He said,

"There has never been any record of a witch possessing such an ability. The person we encountered earlier didn’t feel human." His gaze shifted briefly towards the corpse lying deeper within the passage. He said, "If I had to guess, it was likely the same individual who assumed your father’s appearance before we discovered his body."

Ruelle lowered her eyes.

She didn’t like the sound of it. It felt as if whoever this person was, was circling around the people she came in contact with.

Something caught Lucian’s attention. His gaze shifted towards the fireplace, where the flames had begun to burn steadily again, and he stepped away from Ruelle without a word. Leaning forward, he reached through the warmth and picked up two crude stick dolls that had been tucked behind the iron pot.

"Ruelle," he said, still looking at the dolls. "The days Harold Belmont spent in your new home. Did he touch you?"

The question caught her off guard.

Her eyebrows drew together as she searched her memory. After a moment, she replied,

"He never struck me." If anything, he was trying to be different. It almost felt as though he wanted to make up for everything that had happened. He wanted to be affectionate."

"Did he embrace you?" Lucian questioned her.

Ruelle nodded. She remembered how strange it had felt at the time. Curious, she asked him, "Why are you asking?"

Instead of answering, Lucian held one of the dolls out to her. Ruelle took it from him, and it was then she noticed her name on it. Ruelle Belmont.

"The other one bears my name," Lucian said, lifting the second doll slightly. "I doubt whoever made these has any connection to the courthouse. A voodoo doll requires the person’s true birth name to function, and those records are kept within the treaty archives."

As he spoke, his thumb brushed over the crimson thread wound tightly around the doll’s body. He explained, "This thread, it represents the one carrying out the action."

Her grip unconsciously tightened around the doll before she looked back at Lucian. She questioned,

"But what would she gain from that? I don’t believe she even knew who my mother was."

Lucian remained silent as he thought about it.

The doll slipped from Ruelle’s hand and landed softly on the floor. As she bent to pick it up, her fingers instinctively tugged at the strip bearing her name before pulling at the crimson thread wrapped around its body. The thought that someone had prepared something like this specifically for her... Why couldn’t they leave them alone?

She was about to throw the thread into the fire when something caught her eye beyond the flames.

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