Trinity the last White Witch - Chapter 71

[Trinity’s POV]

I said my plans to Michael and also about Lady Catherine. I had to give him a level of trust if I wanted to work things between us.

Michael’s eyes shone, and there was something there that I couldn’t put my fingers on.

“You really are amazing,” he said and flashed me a rascal smile. “You can fight. Use magic and is very smart. You also have solutions to every problem, and it’s seemed like nothing can faze you. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better partner than you.”

“Your flattery wouldn’t get you anywhere.” I flipped my hair and took my first step when I staggered backward. Everything turned blurred and hazy, and there was a loud pounding in my head. I felt like my bones were nonexistent.

If not for Michael’s arms on my shoulders, I would have fallen on the ground.

“Trinity! Are you okay?”

I didn’t know why I found comfort in the panic in his voice and the worry on his face.

I closed my eyes tight and took in a large intake of air, breathing in and out through my mouth. It took seconds to regain my sight, and the pounding in my head ceased a little. I slightly pushed him away from me. He was so close I was afraid his lips would graze my face.

“You’re bleeding!” Michael held my arm and inspected the cut on my hand.

Oh, that would explain the sudden headache and blurriness. My blood was still dripping from the cut on my arm. Did I slice it too deep, or the sprites just took an enormous amount of my blood as compensation?

“No need for concern. I have an ointment––!”

My words got stuck in my throat when Michael brought my hand to his lips. His eyes were deep shades of blue, serious without a hint of mischief like they used to. I felt like drowning at the intensity of his stares, and I had to gulp to wet my parched throat.

“You have to take care of yourself, Trinity . . . or I would do it for you,” he murmured, voice hot against my skin.

My temperature rose, and I wanted to retrieve my hand within his grasp, for I feared I would lose more blood from the vigorous pounding of my heart.

But the strangest thing happened when I felt a rush of coldness from his breath, and it sipped into my skin. It felt like sprinkles of ice were poured on the cut on my hand, and before I knew it, it no longer bled.

The blurs and headache ceased, and I quickly retrieved my hand to inspect it. I wiped the blood to find my wound was closed, and I looked over at Michael in stunned silence.

He was surprised, too, with his eyes wide.

“Did something happen like this in the past?” I asked.

He shook his head. “This is actually the first time that I healed someone.”

“Can you recall what you did exactly? It might help you understand the Saintess powers, and you can use its gifts to our advantage.”

Michael’s expression fell, and he looked to the side. He rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks and the tip of his ears turned red. “Ah . . . I just . . . at that time, I just thought that I really wanted to take care of you and heal your wound.”

“. . .” I knew my face was red, for I felt it heating.

He then faced me and broke the awkwardness between us with a joking voice. “I don’t want to lose you. Who’d help me to become the Saintess then?”

I rolled my eyes and resumed walking ahead. “Recall that feeling every time, and you might get the hang of your powers.”

Michael jogged beside me and flashed his most famous dimpled smile. “We’ll do. But I think I can only do that to the people who are important to me.”

“You mean to the people who are useful to you?”

Michael clenched his heart and faked a hurtful expression. “Ouch! Is that how you look at me?”

I didn’t comment while he pestered me with him acting cute and idiotic at the same time.

Eventually, we dropped off Nadia in a small village that we passed by. It was far from town, around four to five hours by horse and carriage.

There was an old woman who was willing to take care of her. She was alone, and adopting a child in the village was common for the older folks to help them in their everyday lives.

After I erased and planted a false memory on the old woman, for safe measure, we gave her a pouch of gil for their future use.

And as soon as we resumed our journey to Venezia, Dorothy asked, “Do you remember how the Earl said that he sent Nadia faraway? How come Nadia retorted that she woke up near the town still? Did the Earl lie? But it felt like he wasn’t lying.”

I didn’t know why she asked that question. It was probably that her shock and emotional hormones had already calmed down, and now she could think properly again, and these questions filled her mind.

I didn’t want to talk about past events anymore, especially since it left a sickening feeling in my memories.

But I had to answer her, or I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Plus, she could really use some closure, or she would be constantly bothered by the event.

Same with Michael. It was apparent that he had some questions, too, based on the impatient expression on his face and creased on his forehead.

At times like this that I appreciate Ric’s silent nature. He was really my ideal man. Good looking older man. Calm. Strong. And best of all. Silent and follows orders without question.

“It’s probably Vexana’s doing,” I said.

“Why would she do that if she already secured Grimora’s soul?” Michael asked.

I shrugged. “She’s probably bored and wanted amusement or . . . by doing so, she’d hope there was trouble, and the Earl and Nadia would ask her for help in exchange for their souls.

“She was the only one capable of transporting Nadia back to town, and she did successfully acquire the Earl’s soul after all.”

Dorothy’s face was coated with worry. “If that so, then she might come for Nadia again.”

“She might.” I closed my eyes without a care. “But I doubt it since she no longer had any contact with her. She’d rather find one naïve soul near her vicinity than look for a faraway prey.”

“. . . Aren’t you worried at all?”

There was accusation in Dorothy’s tone, and I wondered when she started liking Nadia. “Pray to the Goddess Luminaire that Vexana forgets about her,” I said without a care.

Dorothy sighed, and she finally spared me with her unnecessary emotional turmoil.

I had to admit that I was cold and unsympathetic brought about my long years of facing problems and sufferings in my past life. But in my defense, I hardly know the girl. I did what I could to save her, but sometimes . . . things just didn’t go your way.

If I would get upset if something didn’t go according to plan or at every death I encountered, then I’d break down and couldn’t get things done.

The world is cruel. It wouldn’t stop just because you wanted it to. It didn’t care if you were alive or dead. It was better to keep your emotions locked and move on.

“Don’t worry,” Michael chimed in, “with the commotion at Roselake’s Manor, everyone would be alert, and security would double. The hunter’s association and the church would surely send their men to investigate. I doubt any nonhumans or a witch for that matter would do something by then.”

Dorothy finally managed a smile, eyes infatuated. “T-that’s right. She’s probably going to be just fine.”

My brows crumpled. Maybe next time, I’ll let Michael do the talking.

However, it was him who was asking questions now.

“Why did the Earl not choose a random commoner?”

“Complications in the future,” I answered simply. “A stranger can ask anything and spill everything. In comparison, his unknown naïve daughter, who is starving for a father’s love and good life, would do anything for him. He could easily manipulate her using emotional ties.

“He probably didn’t expect that Nadia would appear again and that Grimora would feel guilty until her conscience ate her. He probably thought that Grimora was like him, hungry for power and riches that she was willing to do anything to have a noble’s life.

“Not knowing and understanding that all his daughters wanted was his attention. If he had played by his daughters’ emotions, he might have gotten what he wanted.”

“. . .”

“. . .”

Silence descended, and I finally fell into sleep. This time, instead of those silver twin eyes that appeared every time I closed my eyes, the blurry faces of my parents visited me in my dreams.

I forgot how they looked like, and in the past, I didn’t even investigate how they died. I never questioned it nor asked myself why I just accepted the fact that they were killed.

My mother was a powerful white witch. Who could have killed her? And why?

That night, everything was a blur, and the scenes were like static.

But one thing was for sure . . .

It had something to do with the vampires.