THE FARAWAY LANDS OF OZ - Book One

Part Two, Chapter Nine: Vampire Hunt

*

EVANORA

An evil laugh echoed through the darkness of the night. I could not even see the hands in front of my eyes. Only a small white spot in the far back of this space indicated any form of light existed.
I felt my body move without me actually trying. The light got closer as it grew and transformed into a bright orb of white. I saw my hand stretch out and my fingers contract to touch this strange appearance.
As soon as I felt the warmth of the energy on my nails, the flash brought me to my knees, where I was engulfed in darkness once more, as the orb disappeared.
I opened my eyes and saw a figure facing me. Blurry, at first but then it became clearer and clearer as my eyes adjusted. Although everything was black, I could see the colors of the figure as bright as day.
"Dad..." My own voice sounded distant, as I spoke this single-syllabled word. It was as if I didn't speak out of my mouth, but the vibrations moved from around me. I saw father's figure in front of me and the sight scared the nerves out of me. He did not look like himself at all. His skin, hair and eyes were white, and his once blue robes were graying, as were his teeth and nails. He was a walking corpse.
Behind him, I heard the laugh once more. And as it grew louder and louder, another figure appeared behind him, and I knew who it was even before I could even see her.
As Morgana walked around father and traced her hand around his face, her face twisted into a malicious smile. I could not move at all. Not even flinch at this disgusting creature. "Hello, honey. Have you been missing daddy, lately?"
I wanted to scream; to tear out her eyes and break every single one of the 206 bones she possessed. Another laugh escaped her lips. She held out her hand and collected the darkness from around into her palm, forming a sharp blade that rested heavy in her hand.
Now that the darkness had disappeared, I could see where I was, the Emerald City. I looked into the Dark Witch's eyes and saw them flicker with malice. She closed her thin fingers around the dull side of the spear, gripped it and run it straight through father's lifeless body. Once, twice, ten times. Until there was nothing more left than a punctured and empty shell.
"NO!" I screamed, as the senses returned to me, and my nerves regained their conscience. I lunged forward from my kneeling position and held out my hands, thrusting that bitch against the throne and grabbing her by the temples.
I felt the current run through me, flow from my toes to my fingertips, closing the circle right through that filth's brains.
Her agonizing scream made me want to do things to her, even worse than that. She screamed on top of her voice, trying to fidget out of my grasp. But it remained strong, and I would never let go of her, until I would get what I want: Her death.
"NO, STOP! HE WILL NEVER FORGIVE ME!"

With that I jumped to my feet, clutching my sticky chest with my equally sticky hands and finding myself in a room inside the king's castle that I had grown to recognize as a safe place.
"What has become of me...?"

The remainder of yesterday, we spent walking around the city and its suburbs. London was a ghost town. No people dared to leave their houses, leaving the streets empty all the time. We sat down at a café, having tea and pastries for each of us, before we got to a general store, buying bread, cheese and some sweets for a picknick in the meadows surrounding the city.
We laughed and enjoyed our humble meal but it was the best lunch I have had in a long time. If only mother – if only even father – would have been there. They would have enjoyed watching Marcy play with the grass and the trees and the little beetles, more than any of us did.
Even I couldn't help the constant smile as I distantly looked at her while she had found refuge in her own little world. The twelve-year-olds nowadays would never be even slightly able to appreciate even an inkling of nature.
Too invested in their devices and such. I couldn't help but notice that as soon as Marcy had been forced to part from her own ones, she was a totally different person whatsoever. It also helped her deal with what Morgana had done to her.
Aliyah was waking up increasingly less because of the little girl's night terrors. But the scars on her forearm still shone scarlet and were healing slowly.