Rot & Romance (Rewriting)

Chapter 29

A car pulled up and parked in front the SUV and a dreaded woman quickly got out. Benjamin could instantly sense that she was a witch.

"That your witch friend?" Benjamin said. "The one who laced these ropes in amaranth?"

The man didn't reply. The woman, who had a serious look on her face, opened the passenger side door and got inside.

"The bullet didn't work?" she whispered.

"Bullet hit him right between the eyes and all he did was pass out."

The woman glared at Benjamin.

"That can't be possible," she said. "Only the Primitive Family are truly immortal."

"I see the Morrisons are popular amongst witches and the undead no matter where I end up," Benjamin said.

"You aren't a Morrison," the witch said, "so why are you still alive?"

"I don't know," Benjamin said. "But you need to know that I am not the enemy."

"Yeah, that's what you all say," the witch said, disdain in her voice.

"I'm honestly sick of hearing it," said the man. He turned to the witch. "So, what do we do with this one?"

The witch pointed a finger at Benjamin.

"Adduco Dolor!" she bellowed, causing Benjamin to yell in excruciating pain.

"Wh-What are you doing to m-me?" Benjamin chocked out, trembling from the intense pain crippling his body.

"Magic seems to be affective," the witch whispered. "Same with amaranth."

"Doesn't all that effect the Primitive Ones as well?" the man said.

"To a lesser extent than other dead walkers. Primitive Ones have a greater tolerance to magic. . . . Much like this one. The effects of the agony spell is already wearing off."

"You don't have to do this!" Benjamin grunted as the intense pain subsided. "I'm not a threat. And I can help you."

"Are we out of options?" the man asked the witch.

She turned in her seat and stared out the window.

"You're worrying Fawn, Reginald," she whispered.

He looked at the witch.

"Farrah, I'm out here because of her. Because of you. These demons are terrorizing our town--somebody has to stop them."

"You're doing too much, honey. You're out all night, every night."

The man heavily sighed.

"I remember when we used to do this together," he somberly said

"That was seventeen years ago," Farrah cordially replied. "We have our daughter to think about."

"I AM--I am thinking about her, which is why I do what I do." He placed his hand on Farrah's lap. "You know that I'd do anything to keep our family safe."