Trinity the Last White Witch 🐇

Chapter 13: Gossip

Like yesterday, the fisherman's boat huddled at the shore while the villagers bargained their fish. Among the rest, a particular ship stood out from the sheer number of women flocking its wares . . . or more like the ladies were contesting for a single man's attention.

He was six foot tall with tousled black hair, bright blue eyes, and harbored a body that would get the pheromones of every female ravaging, especially when he flashed his dimpled smile –– and he didn't even know that Dorothy existed.

I watched him deal with the ladies. Polite, amiable, kind. Those were the words associated with him, but I knew his beady eyes were searching for a potential bed partner later. Through layers of practice mannerism, I recognized fiendishness and deceit.

He was known for it, and still, the ladies flocked at him like he was the only male . . . Well, he was the only good looking male in the village . . .

Those unfortunate dreaming teens probably hoped they could tie Michael with their youthful appearance and invigorating physique while the older ones just wanted his company for a short fun.

And of course, Dorothy was among those love-stricken fools who hoped to catch Michael's attention by her white powdered face and round red rouge cheeks.

I shook my head. Poor Dorothy, I thought, licking my lips to hide my smile. No amount of flirting, winking, pouting, or accidental touching of your hands would work with a face like it was molded by a child with the thought of a hen and a goat.

But not to worry, my dear Dorothy, I'll make sure to give you one crazy night with Michael before I leave. It would be my little expe––gift for you before I left town.

I smirked. With a little bit of help from a Love Philtre, Michael will be yours for a day.

Though Love potions and spells came with a warning label attached to it, and I'd seen countless blunders in the past due to charlatans and novices attempting to make one. If the ingredients and steps go wrong, then the potions would definitely go wrong. I watched many witches brew potion behind their cauldrons with cat ears or donkey face –– I, however, was an expert.

I just needed a pinch of her hair.

I squeezed myself past the frolicking girls towards Dorothy, and while she was busy fighting for Michael's attention, I was busy snipping her hair with my silver dagger.

It was a dagger encrusted in diamonds with a silver double blade. My mother gifted it when I was a child, and it has been with me ever since. It had accumulated Either throughout the years. It prolonged the Either inside the ingredients it cut, and it was handy against werewolves and vampires.

After snipping a good amount of Dorothy's hair, I went back into the open space and filled my lungs with fresh air. The amount of perfume in that group was enough to make my eyes water. I was surprised that Michael could withstand it.

Eventually, the whole charade was over when Michael's fish was spotless clean down to the last drop, and everyone was left disappointed when he went home with a beautiful lady in tow.

I wasn't familiar with who he brought with him. She must be from another village.

Dorothy sighed, forlorn in her eyes as she watched them leave.

"You'll get him next time," I said and carried our basket of fish towards the dirt road.

"Maybe it was the lipstick?" Dorothy muttered, biting her thumb. "I should have worn the pink one and not this dark red."

My eyes rolled into the sky. "Maybe." But I was sure that it was primarily because of your face. "Let's go. Old man Jim is here."

Eventually, we made it to Hamill Town just on time. Dorothy and I set up our stall and got ready for another day in the wet market, and not before long people were slowly gathering in the area as the town bustled with the early morning hassle.

"Watch the stall." Dorothy washed her hands and put on another layer of makeup.

My brow rose. "Don't tell me that you're going to sell your blood again."

Dorothy rolled her eyes in front of the mirror of her compact powder as she smacked her lips after applying thick lip rouge. "Of course not. I'm not an idiot."

Oftentimes, I wonder about that. "No idiot would sell her blood and associate with blood dealers."

Dorothy closed her compact and faced me with a hand on her tilted hips. "I'm just going to buy the latest makeup in town. If I dally here longer, they might sell out."

Dorothy didn't bother to hear my reply, not that I was going to.

"Anyway, you take the first watch. I'll come back later and take the afternoon."

There was no afternoon. I thought. Most customers buy in the busy morning. What was she going to watch? Birds in the docks pecking the aftermath of the haul?

I shrugged. It works for me, though, since I'd buy my ingredients and tools later.

"I heard that the Duke's house is recruiting maids every week."

I wet my lips and perked my ears near the stall next to mine where three women had their daily gossip.

"Yes. With both Lady Catherin and the Duke sick, they needed all the help they could get."

"I heard that the Duke is inviting strange people into his home lately. Must be to cure their illness."

"Rumors have it that the Duke of Venezia will visit our town because he is worried about his friend's health."

"Oh, you mean Duke Lloyd Venezia? His daughter is quite lovely."

"Indeed. Lady Emerald Venezia looks like the younger Lady Catherin."

The Duke of Venezia? I thought. I visited their town once at their Harvest festival in spring. I saw him and his daughter sitting on the highest row of the arena as they watched the battle of pigs.

I couldn't remember much about the Duke but her daughter . . . Lady Emerald. Her image was stuck vividly in my mind.

Golden flocks of curls, a small face with big emerald eyes incased in thick lashes, and cute pouty pink lips. She had a petite frame but a luscious body, and she was often mistaken as a Goddess because of her beauty.

Many coveted her hand in marriage, even vampires and werewolves wanted to own the little doll for themselves, but the one who won her was the crowned Prince of Seraphim, Prince Zen Seraphim.

I put my fingers on my chin. 'Looks like I have to hasten the Bloody Potion.'

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A/N

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