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litnerdwrites · 12 days

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Clandestine Affairs (III)

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I have some big exams in a little less than a month, so fics are gonna be scarce. Good news, though, is that this is the last bit of set up I need for things to really get going. Expect the plot to really get going after this. Also, I've decided to start migrating some of my works to AO3. I still post here, but I'll be uploading there too, if that's something you prefer. So far, I only have the first chapter of Clandestine Affairs up, with some slight edits, but nothing major. Just some fixed typos and a couple extra lines to make the dialogue flow better towards the end, and yes, the tumblr post has been updated to match it. Two will be up either today or tomorrow, since it's getting late where I am. As always, enjoy the chapter, and feel free to comment, request, or even if you want to be tagged when I upload any fic, or just this fic.

WC: 2603

TW: Canon typical violence, blood.

Kingdom of the Wicked Masterlist

Clandestine Affairs Masterlist

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (You are here) Chapter 4

Amara didn’t respond to the note.

Nor did she respond to the one she found the next morning.

Or the next.

A week goes by with her ignoring each note that finds its way to her.

Luckily, she didn’t find herself needing to find alternative sleeping arrangements that week, although she knew it would only be a matter of time. Especially as the days grew colder, she wondered if she’d be able to resist a bonfire and a warm body should she find herself in the streets for a night. Had it been any other person, she would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but this wasn’t a normal person. It wasn’t even a human. It was one of the Malvagi.

Her mother had told her of them, of the seven wicked Princes of the Underworld. She told stories of their icy skin, red flecked eyes, and that once you catch their attention, you’ll never escape. It had been a century since the Malvagi stepped foot on earth, with the only indication that they might one day do so again being a warning the coven elders had received; When witch blood spills across Sicily, take your daughters and hide. The Malvagi have arrived.

Before, Amara wasn’t sure how much she believed in The Devil or the return of the Malvagi, but the recent murders taking place, along with her encounter on the beach, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Still, none of the coven elders had given any indication that something was amiss. Were they unaware of the Malvagi’s return, or, perhaps, did they simply not wish for the covens to begin panicking, possibly leading to discovery by either the brotherhood or the Malvagi.

Amara’s shoulders slumped as she let out a sigh, head turning to gaze at the clouds instead. A basket of groceries on her arm. There wasn’t much she could do about the situation, regardless. As things stood, the coven elders didn’t trust her, and the other witch families in Palermo chose to keep to themselves to avoid discovery. If she caused a stir about it now, it could lead to more trouble, which, given her circumstances, is the last thing she needs.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the leftover coins she’d been given, silently calculating her remaining expenditures as a chill ran down her spine. She shoved the coins into her pocket, and scanned the street ahead, as though she were plotting the rest of her shopping route. Her eyes lingered on alleyways and store windows, and other shadowed street corners or alcoves she could find.

Her heart thundered as she took another step up the street. Then another.

She forced her brows not to furrow, and her lips to twitch upwards. She chatted with vendors, haggled over the price of produce, and had just enough left over to buy a shawl. Still, the pin pricks against her neck never once faded, no matter how quickly she darted through the market, dodging shoppers and vendors as she attempted to ditch whoever had been stalking her. Yet, despite her efforts, the presence persisted.

Amara had been followed before, be it during the day or night. Sometimes men with unsavory plans for her, others were simple thieves. She’d even had an admirer or two follow her before, but none were this relentless-

Her mind stuttered to a stop, even as her feet pressed forward.

Perhaps her stalker was no mere man.

Given what she recently learned, it was quite possible. Especially if what she’d been told about the Malvagi was true. Had The Prince of Lust grown tired of her refusal and decided to seek her out? If he had the chance, would he attack her in public, around so many people? No human here could stop him, surely. If not he, then perhaps it was a subordinate of his?

The idea that he was stalking almost had her shivering in fear, but she was saved from having to try and force down her fear when she felt her body collide with something.

Well… Someone.

“Are you alright?” a softer voice calls gently.

“I- I’m sorry,” she muttered, holding a hand to her chest, and keeping her eyes down.

“That’s not what I asked,” the voice said again, right as a soft hand appeared in front of her,“Are you alright?”

Shakily, Amara glanced up. The woman before her had short, dark hair, in beautiful curls, and her dark eyes shone with a warmth she had missed. Gently, Amara reached for her hand, and let the girl pull her up.

“I- I’m fine, thank you,” she muttered, after realizing she hadn’t responded.

The woman cocked her head to the side, observing her.

“You don’t look alright. You’re still trembling, and pale,” she responded.

Amara flinched at her words.

“I- Sorry,” she muttered.

The woman’s brows furrowed, taking in the state Amara was in. Her brown hair stuck to her clammy skin, and the blood seemed to have drained from her warm, bronze face. Despite her best efforts, her entire body trembled as the pinprick sensation grew closer. Clearly, the woman notices, given the way she glanced behind Amara, trying to discern if anyone or anything had been the cause of her distress.

“My name is Claudia,” she gently introduced.

“Amara,”

“Oh, Amara Willows, yes? Aurora Willow’s daughter?” Claudia asked, eyes wide. Amara flinched at the mention of her mother, and Claudia seemed to notice, wincing as well. “I’m sorry. I understand that her loss must be hard on you,” she tried to sooth.

Amara merely nodded, not having the strength to indulge in that conversation. Instead, she changed the subject.

“And you are… Are you like her? My mother, I mean. Are you like me?” she asked carefully.

Claudia nodded with a smile.

“You still seem awfully pale. Shall we talk over a drink? My treat,”

“You don’t have-”

Claudia held up her hand at the start of her protests.

“I insist. Let’s talk, one woman to another. Besides, it’s the least I owe after the way I brought up your mother. It wasn’t my intention to be rude, so let me make it up to you,”

Amara wanted to refuse, but anxiety gnawed at her, and the prickling feeling had yet to let up. She couldn’t risk leading it to her home, but the thought of being alone made her stomach turn. Reluctantly, Amara merely nodded, ignoring the holes those eyes continued to bore into her, and followed Claudia through the market.

_____

The cafe Claudia had brought her too was a quaint little place, out of the way of the main market, with the seating area and kitchen on the first floor, and what’s likely an apartment above. Multiple small cabinet shelves were dotted around the room, lined with books of various genres, different kinds of plants, as well as other little trinkets. Garlands of leaves and flowers were draped over the shelves, tabletops and even hung down from the support beams. Natural light flooded in from large windows in the back, giving the place a soft, inviting glow.

Amara shifted in her seat as Claudia returned, drinks, and even some pastries, in hand.

“Thank you,” she muttered, wrapping her hands around the cup.

“Drink. It’ll warm you up,” she encouraged.

“I’m not cold,”

“No?” Cluadia’s head cocked to the side, “Then is there another reason you were so pale, and shivering as though you’d wandered through a blizzard?”

Amara stiffened, having no response.

Blessedly, she no longer felt the prickling sensation, or presence that seemed to follow her. Part of her wondered if it was truly fine to let things be, and forget about it… But with the murderers…

“Do you- Do you think the recent murders have something to do with witch hunters?” Amara blurted, voice low.

Claudia raised a brow.

“Hm, perhaps,” she took a sip of her own coffee, “But they like to make examples out of their victims. Publically,”

Amara hummed, taking another sip.

“Then you think it might have, possibly, been something else?”

Claudia turned to the window, eyes far as she gazed out at the street, where parents walked with children, or servants ran simple errands.

“I wouldn’t rule them out, but given what we are, it’s not out of the question to suspect more unusual culprits. Especially when our people are seemingly being targeted,” she explained, quietly.

Amara nodded.

“I see,”

“Is this about your mother?”

She flinched at the question, but didn’t answer. It wasn’t about her mother, but perhaps that was selfish. Her brows furrowed at the notion, heart seizing, the way it did right before the news was delivered about her mother’s fate. From beneath her bangs, she caught Claudia nodding, likely thinking that it was about her mother. Amara wouldn’t correct her.

“I- If not human, then who- What do you think did it?”

“Werewolves? A vampire infestation? Perhaps even a demon,” Claudia listed, “Some of the coven elders believe it’s related to the Malvagi themselves,”

Amara stiffened at the mention of the Malvagi.

“Is there a reason they think that? Or is it just a guess?” she asked, taking another tentative sip.

“Apparently there was a warning they received some time ago, stating that when witches started dying, it would be a sign of their return,”

Amrara gave a stiff nod.

“But they don’t have any other reason to think the Malvagi are involved, do they?”

“Not that I know of,” she confirmed.

Amara felt Claudia’s gaze on her as she took a bite of her pastry, but when she gained the courage to actually meet her eyes, she fought back a jolt of surprise. Something older, wiser, stared back at her, as if truly seeing her for the first time. She fought the urge to audibly gulp. Eventually, it seemed, Claudia snapped out of her… Whatever that was.

“One of my friends fell victim to the killer too,” she continued, turning to the window, as a note of something somber made its way into her voice, “Vittoria Di Carlo. Her sister, Emilia, has been searching for the culprit too,”

I nodded, knowing exactly who she was talking about.

“I know,” she muttered, “Or, I know about Vittoria anyway. And, I’m sorry. It’s never easy to- to lose someone,”

Claudia nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss too,” she offered. “If I may offer some advice, from one Strega to another?”

“Of course,” Amara nodded.

“Be careful. Especially since I know you like your late night walks,” Claudia all but implored, “Be it hunters or Malvagi, it isn’t safe to wander at night,”

Her grip tightened on the cup, and her stomach began forming knots. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Claudia the truth, or to even insinuate that she went out at night for any other reason aside from her preferences. She wouldn’t be able to take it if she did. The pity, the shame. No. Amara could handle it without worrying anyone, or needing charity.

“I’ll do my best, thanks,”

The two girls chatted a bit longer, as Amara came out of her shell somewhat. Soon, they even gushed over some of the books in the store, until there was no way she could stay any longer. The sun would begin to set soon, and Amara had to get dinner started. She gave Claudia a hug goodbye, thanking her for another ‘be careful’ warning, before she walked away from the bakery.

Something about that encounter left her feeling lighter. She practically skipped through the streets of Palmero, as vendors began putting away their stalls and businesses began shooting out any strays that lingered a bit too long. Bar keeps and tavern owners began lighting lanterns and setting out their menus, some even switching to their open signs.

All of them were also signs to her that she was running a bit late. Usually, such thoughts would have her sprinting through the streets to make it home before the bookstore closed, but after the day she had, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of that light feeling. She couldn’t force herself to hurry back to the cold bookstore, where she’d force herself into a hot kitchen, trying to make sure dinner, a dinner she hadn’t even thought of yet, was completely perfect.

Amara’s blood went cold, and her face blanched again. All of a sudden, she felt every ounce of joy drain from her body, and an icy chill replaced it. The hair at the back of her neck stood and the pricking, the same one from earlier, ran all the way down her spine. The sun had just about set, and shadows crawled out from the darkness. Suddenly, she noticed how dead quiet it was. An unnatural quiet. The kind where not even the sound of nature could reach her.

She took an uneasy step back, eyes already darting around, searching for danger. This was the route she walked many times before, and yet, now, a tugging in her gut pulled her back. It was telling her to run.

She spun on a heel, only to feel a grip on her upper arm, so fast, so sharp, she barely registered it before she was tugged back into the darkness.

Her heart pounded, and she began swinging her basket, trying to hit whoever grabbed her.

Icy fingers latched around her wrists, stopping her attempts in their tracks. A sharp pain exploded across her back and head.

Then her vision became spotty.

As it cleared, she noticed the toned chest that pressed her to the wall. Soft, dark hair tickled her forehead as her attacker leaned over her. When she finally met his gaze, pale blue eyes stared back.

Amara’s eyes widened further when she noticed the tips of the elongated canines that peeked out from beneath his upper lip.

Her mouth fell open to scream, but icy fingers clamped around her face before any sound could escape.

Tears lined her own, slightly darker blue eyes, and the man’s mouth twisted into a pleased grin, before he brought his lips closer to her. His breath brushed her ear, and she shivered. Amara forced her eyes shut, body trembling against the wall, wrists still in the man’s hold. He let out an amused chuckle, then brushed those elongated fangs against her ear. His voice was like silk, as he purred into her ear.

“Do you know what I am, Strega?”

Eyes still clamped shut, she forced her head to nod. The man- creature- cocked its head to the side.

“Are you sure, little witch?” he asked, hand lossining around her mouth enough that she could make faint sounds.

“V-Vampire,” she whimpered.

His eyes danced with glee and his grin turned sadistic.

“Very good. Such a smart witch,”

“Please,” she whimpered, only for his hand to tighten again.

“Now now, little witch,” he tutted, “Show some gratitude. I come bearing a gift,” Amara’s heart raced faster, and she shook her head again, only for him to tighten his grip to the point it was painful. “Don’t be ungrateful now, It’s rare for a human, or even a witch to receive such a gif-agh!”

Amara’s eyes shot open at the vampire’s pained gasp. She registered the blood dripping from his mouth, and how his eyes widened in shock. She forced her eyes to trail down, only to let out a muffled shriek when she saw it. A blade had pierced the vampire's abdomen.

“I’m quite certain that the lady is wholly uninterested in whatever gifts you, or your kind, have to offer, leech,”

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