Page 57 of I Will Always Find You
“You liked looking at me in fine clothes, did you not, witch?” Alejandro sneered. “Like a plaything—a fucking doll!”
As the cool December night breeze wafted in through the massive hole in the inn’s wall, Alejandro carefully cleared a path to the heavy wooden door. His actions were illuminated by the moonlight while his heart raced with the sounds of battle outside.
He grabbed a frock coat from a chairback, put it on, and then attempted to conjure a flame in his palm for additional light, butthe small fire extinguished itself just seconds after it appeared. His mana was too depleted, making his magic too feeble.
“Damn you, witch!”
Enraged by his mystical impotence, Alejandro grasped the cold metal handle and flung the door open, revealing the still-intact staircase that spiralled down into the parlour’s landing below. With a mixture of hope and desperation, he quickly descended the creaking steps, each stomp of his boots getting him closer to the exit awaiting him at the bottom; it promised escape from the insanity and chaos that had engulfed him for months.
With a last glance over his shoulder, Alejandro dashed through the inn’s front door, his heart racing as he vanished into the shadows of the night. Freedom beckoned.
Upstairs, the Romani witch had regained consciousness and was struggling to lift the dresser off of him, but he was having no success.
“Get off me!” he roared in frustration.
Drawing upon the deep well of strength within his mind, spirit, and aura, the Romani witch focused intently, calling forth his innate, invisible force. With a surge of raw energy, he not only lifted the bulky dresser off himself but also hurled the heavy piece of furniture across the room in a fit of fury, sending it crashing against the wall with a deafening thud.
“Alejandro!” the Romani witch shouted, filled with concern and dread. With his mobility returned, he surveyed the wreckage of the room, searching for his companion. He was worried about Alejandro’s safety and well-being; he was also anxious, knowing that the destruction of the sigils would grant Alejandro access to his dark magic, though he suspected his mana was extremely low. The Romani witch steeled himself, preparing for any situation he might encounter.
Alejandro was nowhere to be found.
“Dammit!”
The Romani witch quickly checked himself for any physical injuries. Aside from some aches and pains and a nasty gash on his brow, he was fine.
Calling upon a power learned in another lifetime, the Romani witch brushed his fingers over the ragged, bloody gash on his forehead with a swift motion. With reverence, he once again invoked the power of Zagovory, speaking an ancient Slavic word—a healing spell that had been taught to him by Damek centuries past.
A warmth spread in his palm, travelled through his fingers, and surged into the flesh of his forehead. The wound instantly knitted together, and all the physical discomfort from being pinned under the dresser soon disappeared.
Healed, he rushed out the open bedroom door; determination propelled him forward in his quest to search the streets of Madrid for Alejandro, utilizing both magic and mortal senses as tools to find him.
Once he stepped outside the inn into the chaos, the Romani witch’s sharp eyes scanned the smoke-choked streets of Madrid, desperately searching for Alejandro. The acrid stench of death lingered in the air, mingling with the bitter remnants of destruction as parts of the city burned fiercely. The cobblestone pathways surrounding the inn were grimly adorned with lifeless bodies, including, sadly, the kind innkeepers who had welcomed him with warmth and generosity.
Navigating this nightmarish landscape and avoiding the patrolling French soldiers became a matter of utmost urgency. The Romani witch yearned for the safety offered by his cloaking spell, a potent incantation that allowed him to meld seamlessly into the shadows of the night.
It required not only mystical words to activate the magic but also a potent elixir, one that included a drop of deadlynightshade. The potion was essential; regrettably, it was beyond his reach.
His belt and the pouches attached to it held only a scant few magical items, nothing that would help him in this war-torn situation. All of his useful, potent magical weapons, trinkets, and vialed brews lay secreted away in concealed compartments within his carriage, which was now tucked safely in a rented carriage house down a narrow street to the south.
That street, however, lay under the oppressive control of Napoléon’s troops, rendering any attempt to retrieve his belongings a perilous gamble amidst the turmoil that engulfed the city.
Deciding against that course of action, he cast his protection spell, hoping that the invisible shield could withstand not only fists, swords, and bullets but also wayward cannonballs.
He pulled his long black cloak tight, concealing his head and face under the hood as best he could, and made his way through the streets, staying close to the walls of buildings—those that had not been blown apart or caved in—and to the shadows of the night.
For nearly twenty minutes, the Romani witch stepped over dead bodies, thankfully none of them children, while stumbling and tripping over debris from demolished houses and shops, avoiding fires left and right as he searched for Alejandro.
He assumed that, under these conditions and with little magic available to him, Alejandro, trying to escape the city, was likely in the same frustrating situation. The Romani witch was aware that his sigils not only blocked access to magic but also leached it from anyone imprisoned by them.
Surely, this has made Alejandro weak and vulnerable. And if he used up what mana he had left to break his bindings, he’s barely more than a glorified librarian at the moment.Traversing a war-torn Madrid at night isn’t going to be easy for either of us, though I do have an advantage.
“You won’t get far, my love,” the Romani witch called out into the night.
When he eventually found a moderately quiet spot to think—an alley between two still-intact shops, a bakery and a cobbler—the Romani witch set about casting a tracking spell, using an enchanted piece of parchment and Alejandro’s blood. He kept a small vial of it on him at all times, in case he ever needed to work blood magic against Alejandro.
He took out a piece of folded parchment from a small pocket in the inside lining of his silk vest and unfurled it on the ground in front of him. Then, he splashed some of Alejandro’s blood onto the blank sheet.
“Trova Alejandro Trevino!” [“Find Alejandro Trevino!”]
