Vivika Widow's Blog, page 59

Red Crown: Episode 13 (The Mad King and the Witch Queen)

“You seem a little distracted,” commented Francesca as she walked in the gardens arm in arm with her betrothed king.

Roman beamed a warm smile. “I couldn’t be happier,” he said.

“You worry about Charles,” Francesca surmised.

The king looked confused. “Who?”

“Your nephew. Lord of the Hand? The infant. Charles.”

“Ah yes, Jerome and Natalya’s son.”

Francesca took his hand. Hers was ice cold compared to Roman’s. His flesh was burning despite having nothing to cover them from the icy wind.

“You don’t have to worry about him.”

Roman sighed. “It’s not Charles,” he explained. “Everywhere I go I see a boy.”

“A boy?” Francesca enquired.

“He’s young, only about eight years old,” Roman told her. “No one else seems to be able to see him as I do.”

“Perhaps you just think of what Charles will be as he grows. He’s on your mind more than you realise.”

Roman was not convinced.

“He is without eyes. He is taunting me. He will not speak. He only stares at me with a crooked smile.”

Francesca’s hear beat a little faster. “What does he look like?”

Roman stopped. He looked at his bride to be and contemplated for a few moments. “He looks a lot like you actually. He has the same paleness of skin and the same blackness of hair.”

Francesca’s face dissolved of emotion. Roman had never known her to show concern for anything.

“No eyes you say?” enquired the soon to be queen.

“Does that worry you?” asked Roman.

“Only concerns for you, my love,” she replied.

There was no mistaking the fear that sat in Francesca’s brilliant blue eyes. It was an emotion that was alien to them, made unwelcome by the stoicism of her ruby lips

“Just figments of an exhausted imagination,” the king assured her feeling guilty that she had been made to worry.

“It’s getting colder and the snow is falling again,” stated Roman. Small flakes of white fell onto his brown beard.

“The moment you return to the castle you will be called upon,” Francesca reminded him. “But I won’t keep you. I will find Annabelle and she will substitute your company.”

They said no more about the blind boy but when they returned to the castle the parting kiss that Francesca offered was nervous. It was an almost inhuman touch. This time the coldness was felt.

***

Annabelle had been in the study awaiting Francesca’s return. She was sat by the window watching the snow become heavier.

“What’s wrong?” asked Annabelle. Even Francesca’s long time companion was unaccustomed to seeing her in such distress.

“’They’ are here,” said Francesca simply.

Annabelle smiled, assuming a jest.

“They can’t be,” she said. “You destroyed them all. You left none alive.”

“Roman has seen the blind boy,” Francesca returned.

Annabelle joined in her friend’s concern. “Are you sure?”

“Without knowing, Roman described the boy perfectly. It was him. The others will be there too.”

“What are you going to do?” asked the fairer haired of the two.

Francesca narrowed her gaze on Annabelle.

“You mean, what are we going to do?”

Annabelle folded her arm across her chest and raised her chin.

“I have already accepted my part for what happened. ‘They’ can do whatever they like to me.”

Francesca lunged forward and snatched the crystal pendant around Annabelle’s neck. It glowed a cobalt blue in her hand.

“Whilst you have this you are bound to me,” Francesca snarled. “I came here to live a new life and nothing will stop me.”

Annabelle had no words. Francesca saw this as a challenge. “Do you think they frighten me?”

Annabelle shook her head. Francesca let the pendant go. She paced to the other side of the room. She spoke, but it was to herself.

“I can protect this castle,” she murmured. “If they thought the pain inflicted on them before was terrible let them step over my threshold.”

Francesca returned to good spirits that evening when she, Roman and a few select courtiers dined.

Roman seemed to have forgotten the blind boy. His cheeks were red with wine.

“I am honoured to have a place at your table, Your Majesty,” said Annabelle.

Roman beamed a wide grin. “Think nothing of it. The pleasure is mine. Eat up and drink up for tomorrow we feed the people.”

Seeing Roman so jolly caused a cloud of melancholy to form over Annabelle. Natalya was all but forgotten now and a darkness was approaching the castle. Only Francesca could stop it and now like Annabelle the king would find himself bound to the dark witch until the day of his death.

Enjoy this?

Subscribe to the page for more exclusive episodes of Red Crown and other Red Snow goodies!

Fancy more witchcraft, murder and mayhem? Click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s explosive introduction to the fairy tale world of Red Snow.

[image error]

What the Club Wants

She was told to arrive at the club around four pm. Emily thought she would be the only one but there was another woman there. She was standing outside the door. The Knock, Knock club sign hung high about her head. She was beautiful, with porcelain skin and a finely formed figure beneath the black t shirt and khaki trousers she wore. She was far prettier than Emily. Emily never saw herself as anything special. Her fair hair was brittle and no matter how many bottles of dye she put over it she could never get it the shade of honey blonde she had as a girl. It just made it even more brittle.

She was nothing special but when she danced she turned heads. She was trained in ballet and tap. She could be dancing at some of the biggest theatres in the city but when the recession hit the theatres were shut down. She had to find her bread somehow so she answered a mysterious ad at the back of the Coldford Daily. ‘Dancers wanted’ it said. It didn’t specify which type of dance but Emily was sure it wouldn’t be ballet. She called the number given. The man she spoke to didn’t give her much information. He just asked her what experience she had, gave her an address and asked her to come by the club at four pm. Looking at the exterior of Knock, Knock nerves began to flutter in her stomach like opening night jitters. If she hadn’t been so desperate she would never have gone through with it.

“Do you work here?” Emily asked the other.

“Not yet,” she replied with a friendly smile. “I assume you are here for the dancer job?”

Emily felt more at ease. If she had to bring herself to this sordid club to pay her well overdue bills then at least she would have a friend.

“The manager will be round in a minute to let us in,” she explained. The other woman’s choppy, black hair was luscious and had a playful hint of blue through it. “My name is Lydia”

She took Emily’s hand and shook it. “Are you sure you want to be in a place like this?” she asked.

“I have to get the work where I can,” replied Emily. The nerves returned.

Lydia was going to say something but before she could get the words out the door was pulled open. A tall, lean man inspected them both from the door way.

“Dancers?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Lydia answered for them both. Emily found herself nodding stupidly.

“Come on in,” he beckoned.

The inside of the club was even grottier than the exterior made it seem. The tables on the club floor had their chairs piled on top of them, not yet ready for that evening’s performance. On one of the vacant tables sat a pile of money. The man lifted the money and slipped it into a white bag. Lydia watched him closely.

“I’m Dennis. I manage this place,” he said when the money was stored away. “We’re in a bit of a bind. Our last dancer didn’t get on with our main act. To cut a long story short we need dancers to start right away.”

He pulled one of the chairs down and took a seat. The women remained standing.

“I’m free to start,” Emily managed to get the words out.

Dennis flicked the black hat he wore to the back of his head and leaned forward.

“I don’t have much time so let me see what you got.”

Emily looked to Lydia.

“Look,” he said reaching into his shirt pocket and producing a cigarette. “I can’t have you getting shy on me. I’m not running a kid’s club here. If you are going to dance you are going to have to please the customer. Now strip.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. She pulled off her t shirt revealing a black brazier underneath. She unclipped the brazier and dropped the floor. She stood straight, bare breasted.

Dennis gave a sardonic smile.

“That a girl,” he commented.

He turned to Emily.

“So are you going to play the game or am I going to have to look elsewhere?”

Emily still hesitated. Dennis tapped his wrist.

“Time is money, sweetness. Either you get the girls out or there is no work here for you.”

That day Emily peeled the clothes from her body under the leering stare of the club manager. The Knock, Knock club expected a lot from her. What else was she to do?

Enjoy this?

The Knock, Knock graphic novel is coming August 2018.

Subscribe to the page for all the latest updates from Shady City.

[image error]

I Confess!

Tracey Campbell was a go – getter. Since she was a girl she always knew she was destined for greatness. Things got tough for her in her second year of medical school.

Nothing was going to get in her way. She would reach the top of her class no matter how many bodies she had to climb over to get there!

Tracey first featured in Myths and Tales volume 1. Click HERE to read the short story – Confessions of an Anatomist.

After ten years in prison Tracey is back on track. She has a new career path and a new dastardly plan in mind. Click HERE to read – My Silly Little Confessions.

[image error]

Red Crown: Episode 12 (Blood Ties)

Justus was in a hurry. It had been months now since his first arrival in a land that was unusual to him. His time was filled with requests the nobles wished to be put to the king. Roman was also willing to lend an ear to the more simple people of his kingdom so the cries for attention were never silent.

Now Justus was on his way to the library of the castle, carrying books on the history of Navaria so he could arm himself with knowledge.

He met Vasinov en route. Justus bowed as respectfully as he could. Vasinov gave a curt nod.

“I’m glad I managed to get you alone,” stated the Count.

“To what do I owe the honour?” asked Justus.

“I have my concerns about my cousin. Perhaps you can relieve them.”

“I’ll do my best, Your Grace,” was Justus’ response.

“Ever since the pending nuptials to the Lady Francesca were announced he hasn’t been quite himself. He barely speaks which Is most unlike him. It is almost like he has been bewitched.”

Justus’ eyes widened at first. To claim someone was under an enchantment was not to be taken lightly, especially when that person was a king. Vasinov laughed when he realised how seriously Justus was taking his words.

“I don’t mean that literally, of course. His Majesty and I have always been very close. I’m just worried about him.”

Justus shuffled his books into a more comfortable position in his arms.

“I believe it is not the wedding that concerns the king. On the contrary, it is one thing that he seems still in good cheer about. It is the fate of my predecessor, a man named Perrin, that has left him cold. Also, he was very fond of the Lady Natalya who is no longer with us.”

Vasinov’s round face turned a pale shade of red.

“That business with the Countess was unfortunate,” said Vasinov. “I do think it was best for His Majesty though. The people were starting to talk. They said that he had stolen his brother’s wife just as he had stolen his brother’s crown.”

Noticing the advisers dismay Count Vasinov continued.

“It’s all nonsense of course.”

“Intelligent men and women pay no mind to such treacherous talk. Otherwise we could have chaos on our hands,” replied Justus.

Vasinov gave another nod. “Without a doubt.”

“If I were to listen to all the talk I hear I would be led to believe that you are deliberately trying to sow discord at court. You were an enabler of the king’s affair with the deceased Countess.” Justus said cooly.

Vasinov hadn’t expected to be challenged by the man from Susiname. He cleared his face of shock.

“I can’t say I have heard that talk. Then of course if it is about me then I would be the last to hear…”

“As I said,” Justus remained cool. “Intelligent people pay no mind to such talk.”

Vasinov interrupted. “His Majesty and I were always really close.”

Justus agreed. “I am aware of that. So close in fact he named you his successor in the event his union with Francesca bore no children. Most would have thought he would be more inclined to name his nephew.”

The redness of Vasinov’s face deepened.

“That was his decision!” he proclaimed.

“If you would excuse me I still have much to learn,” said Justus indicating the books in his arms. “You can rest assured that His Majesty will always receive the best guidance I can provide. If there is anything I feel you should know I will come to you.”

Justus left Vasinov behind and continued on to the library.

***

Later that afternoon the count sought out Drenisov in the court yard. He and two of his guards were sharing a story of what a girl from the gates had been willing to do to be released from the charges of witchcraft.

“She couldn’t suck cock to save her life,” Drenisov laughed at the irony. “I burned her anyway.”

They all shared a sinister laugh. One had a hand on the wall they stood by and was holding himself up. His face was purple from having drank too much.

Vasinov urged the witch hunter aside with him. The purple faced guard bent over and vomited.

“I want you to keep a close eye on the king’s new adviser, Justus,” Vasinov instructed. “He knows too much already. He will be trouble.”

Drenisov shrugged his shoulders. His upper lip curled.

“That isn’t my problem, My Lord,” he stated.

Vasinov folded his arms across his chest and tried to stretch himself to his full height to match the towering frame of the witch hunter.

“If you want to continue gaining more power in this kingdom then I suggest that you make it your problem. Do you believe Justus would do nothing if he found out about your treatment of your prisoners?”

Drenisov sighed. “I have never known a Susinamian to have a moral conscience.”

Vasinov dismissed the comment.

“This one is different. After being saved from a life of slavery he is in a debt to the king and his loyalty will not be bought.”

Enjoy this?

Subscribe to the page for all the latest episodes of Red Crown.

Fancy more magic, murder and mayhem? Click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s explosive introduction to the fairy tale world of Red Snow.

[image error]

Dirty Dennis

“He had sought her out like a predator on his prey. At first bite he would realise this prey was poisonous.”

We all knew Dennis was dirty but we had no idea just how dirty!

Coming 11.08.18

Subscribe to the page for more updates and stories from Shady City.

[image error]

Open for new Members

The Knock, Knock blog series has been closed. (Audience booooo ). But ladies and gentlemen we promised you a graphic novel and that is exactly what you are getting (Audience hurray!!! )

Here on Vivika Widow Online we are proud to announce the launch date of the Knock, Knock GN will be 11 August 2018.

Stay tuned for further announcements but in the meantime things are going to sizzle this summer in Shady City.

Subscribe to the page for more updates and stories from the Knock, Knock Club.

[image error]

The City Thanks You For Your Service

Mayor of Coldford, Jim Feltz, had given a lot to the city but the city was a demanding mistress. It earned its name as Shady City not just because of the gloomy weather but because everything was there for the taking by anyone not burdened by a moral compass. The mayor was such a man.

Whilst the cities funds depleted he squirrelled away as much as he could. Things were going to implode soon. It was only a matter of time. The regeneration projects he had promised during his last campaign were halted. The poorest area of the city, known as The Shanties, were now worse than when they started. People in high positions – people he considered friends – had pilfered the money away, leaving none for those lower on the ladder. There were no funds for expecting mothers he swore he would help and school budgets had been cut to the very brink. Only the exclusive school – Pettiwick – was managing to weather the storm but only because it’s rich students were willing to pay the cost in private donations. Not many could afford to send their children there though.

What did it matter? When campaign time came again he could blame the opposition. After all he was just doing what he could with the mess his predecessors left behind. Half of the city would believe that and the other half wouldn’t care either way. He was done with all that. He checked his flight tickets again and stored them safely back in his pocket.

“Will you be home on time?” Sylvia Feltz asked her husband as he pulled on a black coat and prepared to leave. “We have the Winstons coming to dinner,” she added. “I need you here.”

The plan to leave everything behind had been in the works for some time. That day had finally come. He had enough money to start fresh now. When the finances of the city  tumbled like a house of cards he would be well out of the blast zone. His family would have to face the music at first. He was sorry about that but they would get out of it cleanly for the most part.

His eldest daughter, Lacey, kissed him.

“I’ll be in the office this afternoon,” she said. “We need to start a new campaign plan.”

Lacey was her father’s daughter. She was so like him in many respects. She had the same dark eyes and hair. She had the same permanent stern expression. She had gotten involved as his campaign manager the moment he announced he was running for City Office. She had aspirations of becoming mayor herself one day. She had a naïve view of politics.  She didn’t realise a certain lack of compassion was required despite what many may argue. She would learn that soon enough.

He stepped outside the building. As desperation spread people were becoming irate so he kept his security close. His silver town car wasn’t waiting for him as it usually was. He trusted his driver, Shane, with his life. He had arranged to be taken to the airport rather than the office that morning and it wasn’t like Shane to be late. The mayor couldn’t help but worry something had gone wrong. He looked up at his security guard. He was expressionless. He stared straight ahead. He was much larger than the mayor in both height and girth. He had never bothered to learn the man’s name who’s duty it was to protect him. It didn’t seem important.

His heart rate increased the tempo of its beat. It was really happening. The car approached the kerb. He couldn’t see Shane in the driver’s seat through the tinted windows. The security guard leaned forward and opened the door. The mayor made to climb in but he hesitated. A woman was sat waiting for him. She shifted over and patted the seat beside her.

“Don’t be shy,” she said.

Her ruby lips curled into a pretty smile. There was a gap in her front teeth that gave her a girlish quality. The collar of her grey coat had been pulled up around her neck. Jim took the seat. The door was closed and the car began to roll into movement.

“Isn’t this cosy,” the woman remarked.

He tried to control his breathing. He called upon every political stoicism he had in the hope he didn’t look worried.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The woman looked out of the window, watching the city pass at greater and greater speed.

“Just giving a proper farewell,” she said. “Surely you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to little old me?”

Fear erupted inside him. He didn’t care he would be leaping from a moving vehicle. He clutched the door handle and pulled but it was locked.

“Let me out!” he cried.

The woman laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We have a little party prepared for you at the club.”

Jim fell back onto his seat. Tears were in his eyes. His hands trembled.

“The city thanks you for your service.”

The Knock, Knock graphic novel is coming soon and we couldn’t be more excited.

Subscribe to the page for all the latest updates and stories from Shady City.

[image error]

WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT

Red Crown: Episode 11 (The Thrill of the Hunt)

Drenisov didn’t like being distracted from his duty. The king had granted him a high honour in appointing him as witch finder and he enjoyed the power his new position gave him. The soon to be queen requested his presence and he was disgruntled at being pulled away from his sacred duty.

“The Lady Francesca calls you urgently,” Vasinov had pulled him aside.

Drenisov rolled his eyes.

“I have no time for this,” he complained. “I have already had three suspected witches brought this morning and if I don’t act now their coven may have the chance to flee.”

Vasinov gripped Drenisov’s arm and tugged him back. “Don’t be so stupid as to refuse your queen,” he spat.

Drenisov pursed his lips. “She’s not my queen yet,” he said.

“But she will be and if her reputation is true she cares little for fools who don’t bow to her will.”

Drenisov bowed, stretching his arms wide.

“Then I guess I am at the lady’s command.”

Vasinov sniffed. “Change first,” he ordered. “I can smell burning flesh on you.”

Drenisov grinned. “It’s the smell of progress, My Lord,” he said. “I have heard the lady’s reputation too. Perhaps she would enjoy the smell of burning flesh on a man.”

Lord Vasinov shook his head at the young man’s insolence.

“Go now,” he commanded.

“Fine,” Drenisov said with a final roll of his eyes. He turned to the guard he assembled.

“It seems I am called to the castle,” he announced to them. The guard returned with silence eager for their orders. “No one moves until I get back,” he stated.

The guards gave a cry of, “Yes general!” in receipt of their instructions.

***

Drenisov was led to chambers in the East Tower of Castle Kroestov. Francesca had taken up residence there until her marriage to Roman. It was a small room with bare, green walls. It contained a mahogany table and a bottle green sofa. Francesca had brought nothing with her from her home but refused Roman’s offer to make her surroundings more lavish and comfortable. She had everything she would need.

Drenisov found her lain on the sofa with her hands folded across her chest, staring at the ceiling as though she were in a coffin.

“You wished to see my, My Lady,” Drenisov enquired politely.

Francesca sat up. She smiled at him, a wide, beaming smile that caused her magnificent blue eyes to spark.

“I hear we owe you thanks for keeping the kingdom free of witches, general,” she said.

“I have been granted a great honour by His Majesty,” Drenisov replied. He refused to meet Francesca’s eye.

“It is a dangerous task though,” she said. She stood and walked towards him. “Witches could hide anywhere. One could even be hiding in this very room.”

Drenisov felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was like a bolt of lightening firing though his body. He turned and was face to face with Annabelle. He hadn’t seen her when he arrived. He hadn’t heard her enter the room. He turned back to Francesca. She reached her hands out and clasped each side of his face with her long, thin fingers. Immediately he felt his body weaken from the knees. He managed to stay upright.

“You know those people you burned are innocent, don’t you?” asked the soon to be queen.

Drenisov nodded dumbly in agreement.

“You wouldn’t know a real witch if they were close enough to bite off your tongue,” Francesca continued.

Annabelle stood behind the general in silence. Drenisov continued nodding.

Francesca laughed.

“Just be done with it,” Annabelle urged.

“Here is what I need from you,” Francesca explained to the general. “You will continue your little witch hunt as you see fit. I do like a man with initiative. But know this. If your ambitious glare ever falls in my direction I will make you suffer in such torture those you have burned will seem to have been blessed. Do you understand me?”

Again Drenisov nodded. His thick lips twitched as though he were trying to form words but none came.

She removed her hands from his face. His nose began to bleed.

“You wished to see me, My Lady?” he enquired again as though he had just entered the room.

“I got everything I need,” Francesca explained. “You may go.”

Drenisov bowed to both women individually. He gave Annabelle a second glance trying to remember if she had been there the whole time.

When they were alone Francesca fell back onto the sofa. Her nose began to bleed.

“He may stumble onto the path of ‘Them’”Annabelle said.

Francesca replied, “’They’ are all gone.”

“He wouldn’t stand a chance. No dweller would.”

‘Dweller’ was a person with no magic ability.

“I told you I left none alive. Nothing is going to stop my life here with Roman.”

Enjoy this?

Subscribe to the page for more exclusive content.

Fancy more magic, murder and mayhem? Click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s explosive introduction to the fairy tale world of Red Snow.

[image error]

Red Crown: Episode 10 (The Kingdom of Strength)

Far to the east of Navaria, perched high in the Mountains of Elinway, lay the kingdom of Ravensedge. Sparrington Fort was the home of conquering King Alfred and his Queen Ellen. King Alfred was a fair ruler but where Roman treated his people with kindness, Alfred was iron willed. His people feared and respected him in equal measure.

Ravensedge was built centuries before by the discarded criminals of Navaria and Elgany who flocked to the mountains. The first king, Lowell, a disgraced knight led them, trained the men to the strongest knights in the land and so the kingdom of Ravensedge was born.

Alfred had taken his seat in the Great Hall. A letter from Navaria had left him unnerved.

“You seem tired, My Lord,” commented Julia. Julia was a vibrant, strong woman who was always by the king’s side. Her astute mind offered the king sage advice. Her broad shoulders and athletic frame was desirable. She was from a family who could trace their routes back to the founders. Alfred had a keen interest in her. Queen Ellen knew this and worried her time in the king’s favour was waning as she was still to produce an heir.

“I am as alert as I always have been,” Alfred stated. He didn’t like people commenting on his bodily weaknesses.

Julia gave a wry smile. “I only mean that you carry too much on your own. Let me help.” She slipped behind his back and gently began to massage his shoulders.

“I heard word from Navaria,” he said. “It seems King Roman is going mad. There is talk of witchcraft.”

“Let them rot,” Julia replied. “Why should we worry?”

She lay her pointed chin on Alfred’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. The strands of brown hair that had broken free tickled his face.

He reached up, grabbed her arms and pulled himself free.

“I met a witch once,” he said. “I was just a boy and I had wandered into the woods. He was tall and very thin. He didn’t look quite human. He called himself Benedict and told me he could give me everything I ever wanted.”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “So what happened?” she asked.

I came home that day to find my five brothers had died. My father breathed his last that evening before grief finally took my mother. I became king without contest.”

Julia shrugged her shoulders. “So you think this witch was responsible?”

“The disease came so suddenly and took them all so completely that I was a little suspicious at first.”

“We are not superstitious people, Your Majesty,” Julia reminded him. Superstition is for the weak heart and witches are tales for little children.”

“That isn’t what Navaria believes.”

Alfred returned to the letter. He had placed trusted men in the courts of the two great kingdoms of Navaria and Elgany, enjoying the valuable information they returned with.

“Roman has a weak heart,” Julia stated. She gripped the handle of the sword on the king’s belt. “Perhaps now would be the time to strike. We could extend our power to the west.”

Alfred knew it was what he should do but he couldn’t stop thinking of Benedict. Tall, insect like, with bulbous green eyes. He owed everything to him and had never given anything in return, at least not yet.

Enjoy this?

Subscribe to the page for more exclusive content.

For more magic, murder and mayhem click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s explosive introduction to the fairy tale world of Red Snow.

[image error]

Red Crown: Episode 9 (Royal Madness)

The kingdom of Navaria mourned the loss of Countess Natalya. She was well known among the people and the nobility alike. She was loved for the most part.

King Roman had lost his zeal for life. His usual excitable nature had simmered to a cool calmness. He would answer those who spoke to him in short, sharp sentences.

“I loved her,” Roman told Justus, sat in the king’s study. “But I can’t understand why I would mourn her so much.”

Justus heard rumours of the king’s involvement with Natalya. People said that the baby, Charles, was more than the king’s nephew but Justus never gave any credence to such talk.

“I’m afraid you don’t have the privilege of time,” Justus replied. “The kingdom must go on without her.”

Roman was still distracted. He stared into the fire as though Justus wasn’t there.

“There is something I’m forgetting about her already,” he said to himself. “There is something about Natalya that has escaped my memory.”

Justus went on to discuss the king’s pending marriage to Francesca. The words were lost in the king’s ear. His attention was drawn to the chair beside the fireplace.

“Who are you, boy?” the king asked. “How did you get in here?”

Justus turned to see who the king was speaking to but the chair was empty.

To Roman there was a boy of about eight years old. His skin was so pale it was almost blue. His features were finely carved. The boy reminded him of Francesca, his bride to be. His eyes were just vacant, bloody sockets. The boy was blind.

“I asked you a question,” Roman continued, becoming more agitated. “How did you get in here?”

Still Justus saw nothing. He tried to calm Roman down but the king became furious.

Roman could see the boy stretch his soft, youthful face into a grin of needle sharp teeth.

“Get out of here! What are you grinning at!?”

Roman lifted the iron rod from the fireplace and swung it at the empty chair. Justus snatched the poker from the king and pushed him away.

“I think grief is getting to you more than you realise,” Justus said as he returned the poker to it’s rightful place.

“There is a horrid little boy there,” Roman explained. “I see him.”

Justus raised his eyebrows but spoke without condescension.

“There was no boy,” Justus insisted. “You need some rest.”

Roman growled with anger most unlike him. “You are not my nurse maid,” he spat. “Get out.”

Justus bowed. He obeyed the king’s command and left him alone. He wrote an urgent note to Doctor Hogran.

Roman sat in the chair staring for hours. The little boy still grinned with his empty eye sockets and a smile filled with malicious intent.

***

“They will destroy everything,” Annabelle warned.

Francesca was pacing the room.

“I’ve never known you to be a coward,” she barked at her long time companion. The truth was she had felt Their presence getting stronger. Francesca was always so sure of her own ability. Annabelle found it unsettling to see her flustered as much as she tried to disguise it.

Francesca pulled the silver clips from her hair and let her flowing black locks drop down her back.

“I destroyed Them,” she growled. “Every last one of them.” She turned to Annabelle. “They can’t stop me.”

Enjoy this?

Subscribe to the page for more exclusive content.

Fancy more magic, murder and mayhem? Click HERE to enjoy Vivika Widow’s explosive introduction to the fairy tale world of Red Snow.

[image error]