Bewitched Among the Roses

Chapter 2

(Written by SinpaiCasanova and Enterthetadpole)

The crowd stands frozen, as if in a picture frame surrounded by instant regret for what they have done. Sadly, the white cat knows that the moment is temporary. Once the young woman has stopped swaying in the breeze, and her body is cut down and burned they will mutter that it was God's will. If she had been innocent then there would have been a sign from above to save and protect her. The absence of invisible hands holding her up after the floor fell from under her feet told them all they needed to know.

They were right in there suspicions all along, and now Hell would have yet another sinful slut to pick at along with the others. The white cat moves quickly before the audience begins to turn away. His long tail bristles from the look that Signe gave him before she refused to point him out. That type of bravery and kinship wasn't made for this world. A small mouse scurries away as the feline maneuvers down a side street, it's black eyes confused that it's not being chased. The cat's pristine, snowy fur flutters as he lightly leaps onto a small wall heading towards the center of town, and with light feet, he balances until he reaches a shadowy corner away from prying eyes. It's only when there are no sounds of talking at all that the cat begins to shift. His slanted pupils becoming rounder as he keeps his gaze darting from the set of clothing on the ground back to the little alley.

White fur melts into pale flesh, and in the blink of an eye, a man is crouching on the ground where the cat used to be. His sapphire eyes adjust to the lighting as he stands. His nudity would surely gain him a night in an iron cell for displaying such immorality, so he's quick to dress in his white cotton shirt and trousers. The man could almost pass for a citizen of Roanoke, but his silver-platinum hair would surely give away what he truly was. A witch.

The man moves swiftly towards the edge of the village, slipping into the thick cover of the surrounding woods. This is his safe haven, a place where he can live in peace without fear of persecution. He didn't ask to become a witch, but the universe had other plans for him. Plans to heal and nurture those he came across with his gentle soul and vast knowledge of natural remedies. He's a good and noble man. A healer. The perfect White Witch.

But there are others that possess the gifts of the mystic arts, those that do not share such warm sentiment towards the human race. They are demonic in nature, and will not hesitate to kill those that seek to harm them. These Red Witches are dangerous and unpredictable, and he knows to avoid them as much as he must avoid the humans. He's completely isolated in his little part of the woods, and he often finds himself longing for a companion. But it's a small price to pay for a life unhindered by the cruelty of humanity.

The man is nearing a darker part of the woods, and he shivers as a cold breeze wraps around his barely covered skin. He can feel another's presence closing in on him, one that's accompanied by the sweet smell of roses. A raven calls from above, gazing down at him from the tree limb with piercing red eyes. He sighs, knowing he's been spotted. And the deep chuckle just behind his slightly pointed ear is the last thing he wanted to hear after what he's witnessed today.

"Such beauty, swallowed up in darkness like a flame in the wind," The voice purred, and the man could feel the slight pressure of another body pressing up against his back. "You're a long way from home, little dove."

"Just let me pass through, Damien. I don't want any trouble here today." He breathed, voice unsteady as Damien wrapped his arms around his curvy waist.

"What's the fun in that, Marvin? It's not every day that I see such succulent purity wandering through my domain."

The White Witch knows what's coming next, and he feels those long fingers digging deeply into his rounded thighs. Perhaps if he just continues on his path and keeps the conversation light, there will be no need to perform any sort of distraction spell. To say that the darker witch didn't have his charms would be an outright lie, but Marvin knows what lurks just behind the smokey eyes and sultry smile.

"Your gardens are even lovelier than usual," the smaller witch remarks as they move past an especially lush field of plump red roses. "Are you still using those herbs I recommended for you the spring before last?"

Damien's amused laugh echoes through the trees and Marvin realizes his mistake. His hands spin him around to look into the midnight gaze of the other man. The scent of roses surrounds them like a hypnotizing mist, and his blue eyes drift up towards the strong features of the most dangerous man he will ever know.

"That's adorable for you to think that a few sprinkles of broken leaves could produce all of the beauty around you. My part of this land is envisioned by only my thoughts, and created by my hands alone."

Damien's fingers are moving again, but this time to more sensitive areas, and it's only then that Marvin pulls away. His right foot comes daringly close to a creeping crimson bud, and Damien lets out a hiss.

"Watch your footing around my babies, little dove, or I may have to clip those pretty little wings."

Marvin swallows thickly, feeling the lump in his throat. He knows not to test Damien's patience, but he will not succumb to his aggressive advances. Damien has been known to use sex as a way to enhance his abilities, and it's actually a pretty common practice among witches that seek out the gifts of foresight. Nothing spurs on a vision like a strong orgasm. But Damien would only be using Marvin, and he refuses to become someone's plaything. Especially Damien's.

The White Witch takes another cautious step back, mindful of the garden to his right.

"Please, just let me pass through, Damien. I only wish to return to my home."

"Oh? And where were you coming from, my sweet? Another execution?" Damien scoffed, letting Marvin create a little more distance between them. "Those people are a barbaric bunch of hypocrites, Marvin. Why do you insist on meddling with such creatures, when you yourself are the very thing they despise?"

Marvin didn't even have to think of a response, and his blind love for those violent people all but infuriated Damien.

"Because they need me."

The Red Witch sighs with disappointment. So much beauty and talent before him wasted on such ignorant worms. Marvin knows that he's special, as was all of their kind. He should be begging to spend time with another witch, sharing a word and perhaps, occasionally his bed.

"Who did they send to their prison they call Hell this time, my snowbird? I can see from the way your eyes fall that it was someone you cared for."

Marvin knows this little game as well and makes a point of not allowing his eyes to connect with the golden glow of the other's gaze. Damien is a skilled reader of emotions, even though his own are a mystery.

"She was an innocent," he admits, "isn't that all that matters?"

"Perhaps," Damien murmurs, glancing up towards the raven that was perched high up in the treetop. "You may pass through, little dove. But next time, I'll require payment."