Page 22 of A Bond with the Dark

It’s going on 11 PM.

“Let’s just try one more place,” he says, crossing the cobblestone street to one last hut in the corner of town.

The building is a patchwork of weathered wood adorned with hanging herbs, dried plants, and mystical symbols that sway gently in the breeze. It looks more like a witch’s hut than a place of commerce or business, like it would meld seamlessly with an enchanted wood, but the sign on the door readsEvernight Elixirs so we stride toward it. The entrance is marked by a crooked door carved from gnarled branches that creak open to reveal a dimly lit interior.

Inside, the air is infused with the earthly aroma of herbs and potions. Shelves line the walls, holding jars filled with colorful powders, roots, and mystical artifacts. A crackling fireplace casts a warm glow, illuminating a cluttered but organized workspace with cauldrons, spell books, and curious trinkets.

The witch’s presence is palpable, leaving a lingering sense of enchantment permeating the air around the hut. The silence stretches before us, and the air feels heavy, like we’re encroaching on someone’s private space rather than a business.

“Hello?” Ollie calls out to the seemingly empty house.

“We should go,” I say, turning to leave.

“Hi, can I help you?” says a soft yet angelic voice.

When I turn around, a gorgeous woman with long red hair and piercing green eyes emerges from the back room.

“Hi, yes. Hello, ma’am,” I stutter. She looks to be only in her twenties, so I don’t know why I’m calling her ma’am. “We were just looking for someone to answer some questions for us. It’s a matter of . . .”

“Life and death,” Ollie finishes for me.

The witch’s eyes soften as they narrow on us. “Oh, shit, is everything okay?”

“Well . . . No,” I say bluntly. “An infestation of grimspawn is taking over the city above. My family and I, well, we’re . . .”

“Vampires,” she finishes for us.

“Yes, and these awful things are infecting our food supply.”

When she wrinkles her nose, Ollie says, “We’re not the only ones in danger. If not managed, it can turn into a pandemic, and then the world itself is screwed.”

The witch takes a whistling pot off the stove and pours some into a cup. “I know of these creatures,” she says, taking the cup and walking over to a table to sit. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?”

I look at Ollie, who only looks back at me questioningly.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “You guys are vampires; you probably don’t drink tea, do you?”

“Well, no, but not because we’re vampires. It’s because it’s gross,” I state, sitting with her.

She laughs. “I’m Shayde Cleary. And you are?”

“Nice to meet you, Shayde. I’m Dominic, and this is Ollie. We’re sorry to bother you; we hoped to find someone down here with any answers.”

She unravels her tea bag and dips it into the steaming tea, the steam swirling in the air. “You’re looking for the warlocks that create them, right?”

“Yes,” Ollie says, crossing his legs. “That is correct.”

“We’ve been hearing things,” Shayde says, wrapping her hands around the brown mug. “Several vampires also reached out to our family in the Salem area. My mom has been doing some spells to see what we can find out. We have an energy spirit, her name is Aura—long story and no time to explain. But she did find something that may be helpful.”

I want to know more about the energy spirit, but based on how her gaze intensifies, how the tendon in her neck contracts as though she’s uncomfortable, whatever she’s about to tell us has significant weight. Ollie and I hang on to her every word. The energy in the room is palpable and intense.

“What is it?” Ollie asks, leaning forward on his knees.

Shayde reclines back in her chair, her long red hair flowing over both shoulders and down to her waist as she clasps her tea on her lap. “It’s very vague and doesn’t make much sense to me. It’s a prophecy. There is a woman in Colorado. Her name is Sayah Thorne. I don’t know much else about her, but I do know that for balance to remain in the world, Sayah . . .” she hesitates; a look of pain washes over her face as though a deep sadness has her steeping in sorrow.

“Sayah what?” Ollie presses.

Her gaze collides with mine as though the information will affect me the most. “Sayah has to die.”

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