Witch Bewitched (New)

Chapter 36

The only bearable thing Misa found on the journey back to Giligha was Min-Min. The cat sensed Misa's hurt, her sorrow, and it did everything it could to console her. Min-Min purred, rubbed against Misa's chin, played with her buttons, hissed at the captain. She mewed for attention when Misa's eyes drew to Royle.

Misa didn't know what she would have done without the feline by her side. Staying cooped up in such a small space with the captain alone would have driven her mad, and Min-Min's presence had been enough to keep her mind occupied with more adorable things.

Even when they stopped by the small village, where the same barn had been given to them, and when they stopped at the larger village closer to Giligha, where Misa got her own room in the tavern, Min-Min refused to leave her side. It was only when they finally reached the city that Min-Min—with some encouragement from Misa—was willing to roam the streets the way she always did.

The few minutes Misa had to spend alone with the captain felt like hours. She kept her gaze glued to the window, refusing to acknowledge him at all. If he wanted to act like nothing had happened in Harthem, Misa was going to be the same. Nothing had happened. The captain was the captain. Royle didn't exist in Misa's world.

When they finally reached the purgehouse, Misa was quick to jump out. Torren had come out to meet them, and despite being out in public, Misa couldn't help but throw her arms around him.

"Torren!" she exclaimed with glee. "I missed you!"

Torren scowled, but Misa could see the twinkle in his eyes. "Not here, Mikim. Restrain yourself."

"Oh, right." Misa smiled and stepped back. "My apologies, Lieutenant."

Torren nodded and brought his hand up for a stiff salute. "Captain," he greeted.

The captain only returned a curt nod before disappearing into the purgehouse.

"He seems pricklier than usual," Torren muttered.

Misa shrugged, feigning ignorance. "He's always prickly. Anyway, I've got to help Belmon with the bags. Can't have a cadet slacking off!"

Torren studied her closely, his pools of blue eyes narrowing, scrutinising. Misa squirmed, suddenly feeling naked as if Torren could read her inner thoughts. Like he knew everything that had happened in Harthem.

"No." Disbelief coated Torren's voice. His gasp was exaggerated, and he slapped a hand against his chest. "I don't believe it!"

Misa withered away from him, fearing that he would say something she would rather not hear.

"You're actually willing to do your cadet chores?" Torren exclaimed. "What happened to that whiny child who was dragged off two months ago? I gotta say, Mikim. The captain must have had some miracle training for you!"

Misa paused, blinking as she realised what he meant. Her cheeks flushed in her usual temper, and she scowled. "Oh, shut up, Torren! Why don't you try wandering the streets with him while looking for the witch—"

Torren smothered her words with a hand, chuckling at her outburst. "Shh-shh! We're outside, remember? Looks like one thing's remained the same. You have no filter when you lose your temper."

Misa retorted, but her words were lost to Torren's palm. She took a step back and glared at him, crossing her arms in defiance. His usual easy grin spread across his cheeks and mimicked her gesture. It was too much. Misa's shell began to cräck as laughter bubbled in her chest. She had to look away or she'd lose the game.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant. I've got to go." She made to turn around but caught him acting as if he was saying her words. One of his hands had gone to his hip while the other fanned at Misa as if he was a noble woman chasing away a commoner. And Misa couldn't take it anymore.

She laughed. She laughed as hard as she could, expelling the urge to cry along with it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, tears of laughter, tears of sorrow. She wiped them away, forcing herself to stop. But the tears continued. Even as her laughter died away, and she had calmed down, the tears refused to stop.

Misa didn't care that they were in public, that there were two officers guarding the front of the purgehouse watching them out of earshot. She wanted to bawl her eyes out and pour everything that had happened to Torren.

Royle's last words to her in Harthem echoed in her ears. Misa sniffled and attempted to turn away, but Torren wasn't joking anymore.

"Hey." He wiped her cheeks. "I was only playing around. I'm sorry if I offended you. Don't cry."

"I just..." Misa palmed her eye, feeling the warmth of the tears staining it. "I just want this to be over. I can't take it anymore. I thought it'd be over when we left Harthem, but I feel so...so..."

The future was a blackness so deep that no amount of light could shed what was right in front of her. Misa trembled at the thought of it. She had thought it was going to be so simple to work with the captain, but her trip to Harthem had exposed her to so many dangers that she hadn't even thought she would ever encounter. Misa's dream of travelling the world was dissipating in front of her, and this blackness encircled her, trapping her in iron bars that had no key.

"I'm sorry, Torren." Misa sniffed. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I shouldn't be bothering you." She rubbed the last of her heartache away. "I should go."

"No, no." Torren grabbed Misa's shoulders and kept his voice low. "Misa, you're my friend, and a friend is supposed to be there when you need them. Don't apologise. Never apologise for telling me how you feel. I'll always be here for you when you need me."

His words warmed Misa's heart. She gave him a small smile through the tears.

"There, that's it." Torren returned it eagerly. "You feel better now?"

Misa nodded. "Thanks, Torren. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Returning to his charming old self, Torren spread out his arms. "As usual, my talents never cease to amaze me. Mother always said I had a way with words. I bet no one could ever hold a candle to me!"

"You're so vain." Misa laughed, punching his chest. "I can't stand it."

"It's not my fault I'm so great." Torren lifted his chin as if he was nobility. "You should be grateful that you have me as a friend."

"I am." Misa smiled, pouring her sincerity into it. "I really am."

* * * *

Royle threw his cap onto his desk hard enough that it sounded like a gunshot. It skidded across the dark wood and knocked over a box of clips, stamps, and keys. The scattered contents ignited his rage.

"Fück!" Nisha. The thought of her sent his chest burning, so much so that he thought his uniform caught fire. A sharp, painful pulse clung to his skin, branding him like he was cattle for the släughter. It crawled up to his throat, suffocating, scalding, and Royle coughed hard enough that his head began to spin. He had to catch his desk before he lost his balance.

"That bìtch!" He struggled to catch his breath. The weight of her curse didn't leave him, but its scorch reminded him to calm down. All was not lost. Now that he knew for sure where she was, he could begin devising a way to kill her.

Yes. There was no point raging over it now. Even though he hadn't succeeded in killing her, he found her location. Now, he simply needed to find a way to go back to Harthem and finish her off once and for all.

The rage settled from its outburst into a renewed energy that spurred him to think over his next step. Go to Harthem, use the girl to draw Nisha out, kill the bìtch. Simple, quick, and deceptively easy. Nisha was a cunning thing. A simple plan like this wouldn't be enough to ensure she didn't slip away. If she went into hiding again, Royle might not have another chance in his lifetime. He needed to consider other options just in case he failed.

Misa. Perhaps, if Misa could take the rest of Tika's power, she could convince the other witches to go against her. Nisha, as powerful as she was, wouldn't stand a chance if she was caught in a magical trap. Royle would have the opening he needed to kill her.

I won't let you.

Royle clenched his jaw, confusion, doubt washing over his rage. Try as he might, he couldn't push his last conversation with Misa from his mind. Her fear, her determination, her hurt. He remembered the fury that flared inside him when he saw her swollen cheek, the cut on her lip. He had contemplated going after Rithian once he settled his score with Nisha.

He raked his fingers through his hair. He couldn't send her back. Not to the cruel witch that took pleasure in abusing her. No. There had to be a safer way to go about this. A way for Misa to play a minimal role, so she didn't get caught in the crossfire.

A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts. He took a seat and masked the turmoil within him. Cool, calm, collected. He couldn't let anyone see him any other way. "Come in."

Torren slipped inside, quick and quiet. There was a subtle precision in his every movement. Sometimes, Royle wondered if the lieutenant only acted like a bumbling idìot.

"Not having the best of days?" Torren jibed, gesturing at the spilled contents on the ground.

Royle chose to ignore it. "What is it?"

Torren shrugged. "How did everything go in Harthem?"

To hell. Royle barely managed to keep his expression neutral. He shouldn't have jumped at the chance to kill Nisha. Now that she got away, she would have the time to figure out who he was and why he wanted her dead. Not to mention Misa. Nisha had taken too much of an interest in her.

"We successfully infiltrated the witch market." Royle leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Yes, he'd made a mistake. One he would have to fix soon. He needed Misa to be the bait but putting her in danger didn't sit well with him at all. He told himself it was because he'd promised to protect her in the bargain.

I care about you.

Royle gripped his arm. He'd gotten too close to her. He couldn't care about her. Not when he had more important things to worry about. So why? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? It was wrong. All wrong.

"Royle," Torren said, waving his hand. Royle blinked back to reality. "What's gotten you so distracted? Something didn't go as you planned, did it?"

Misa's bright expression invaded his mind, the pleasant tickle of her laughter, the glimmer of her eyes whenever she spoke of art. No. It hadn't been part of the plan. Misa was supposed to be his tool.

"Nisha's whereabouts have been confirmed. I plan to transfer to Harthem to find her."

"And Misa? Are you taking her with you?"

"I..." Royle paused, conflicted. He didn't want to put her in danger, not more than he already had, but he simply couldn't think of another way to draw Nisha out. He needed Misa, no matter how dangerous it could get. And if she got killed because of him...His heart clenched. No. That wasn't a good idea.

"She'll need to continue infiltrating the market. Her role will be essential to gather enough information about Nisha." Even as he said this, doubt roiled in his stomach. "I'll apply for a transfer once she returns from the field training."

It would push things off a little, but it would also give him some time to think things through and come up with a reasonable excuse to move to Harthem.

Torren was silent for a moment, hesitant about what he wanted to say. "Don't take this the wrong way, Royle. I don't want you to think any less of her, but I think you should know. She...broke down when you arrived."

"Broke down?" Royle straightened, an irrational anger spiking at the lieutenant's words. "What do you mean, broke down?"

"What else? She was having a hard time."

Shìt. Royle tugged at his hair. What was he doing? Misa wasn't strong enough for this. If she crumbled in the middle of the mission, she would get herself killed. Everything would be ruined. Maybe he needed to take her out of the plan. It was the best solution. Royle would have to devise a new plan from scratch, but Misa wouldn't have to struggle so much. She would be safe.

He needed her to be safe.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," Torren said. "Or that Misa can't handle it. She's stronger than she looks, even if she has a lot to learn. I just need you to go a little easier on her. She'll learn. I know she will."

"I have a lot to go through about our mission. We at least know of Nisha's whereabouts, so we have time. I'll need to consult Tika and adjust my plans. Misa's situation will be decided by then."

Yes. Royle couldn't rush into things. Not when it could cost him years of planning. Nisha was dangerous, so he needed to tread carefully. There was nothing he could do in the meantime, not until he considered all his options. Not until he figured out what to do with Misa.

"We'll have a briefing with Misa once I've reviewed what happened in Harthem. Is there anything else you wanted to say?"

Torren shook his head, then paused. "Well, yes, actually. What about you, Royle? Are you okay?"

Royle had to take a moment to process what the lieutenant said. It was rare for anyone to really care, and he'd learned to keep his troubles to himself. Cool, calm, collected. "I'm fine, Lieutenant."

"If you need to blow off some steam, I'm here to listen. I want you to know that."

"I'll keep that in mind." A small smile settled on Royle's lips. "I appreciate your concern, but there's no need to worry about me. You just keep an eye on Misa. Make sure she's okay."

"Yes sir." Torren saluted, a huge grin on his face. "That's all, sir."

"Then you're free to leave."

Torren's exit wasn't nearly as graceful as his entrance. Once the door slammed shut, Royle felt himself sag with the weight of his burdens and the past he couldn't let go. The curse pulsed, then settled as he forced himself to remain calm. Death was stamped onto him, and he wondered if it was the reason he was hesitating.

Well, it didn't matter. He had accepted long ago that he would die to end Nisha's life. Perhaps, it was better this way. He didn't know what he would do after he achieved his life's purpose. He didn't think it would be possible to live beyond Nisha. So, yes. He would do whatever it took to kill the wretch, and he didn't care if he had to die in the process.

For now, he had to take care of the purgehouse paperwork that had piled up while he was away. It gave him a good enough break from the stress and doubt, and it would help clear his head. Then, he could start thinking again.

END OF PART 1