Burning Desires of the Amethyst Witch

Konrad hovered nearby; his expression unreadable. When Jenny caught him glancing at them, he merely adjusted his cufflinks and offered a polite nod. His silence spoke volumes, suggesting either professionalism or quiet acceptance—either way, Jenny felt a wave of relief.

Jenny took the food with delight, savouring each bite after days of hunger. She had been craving food for so long that she almost wanted to grab the platter and devour everything in sight. But under Konrad's watchful gaze, she forced herself to eat with proper manners befitting a lady.

Dravisha, meanwhile, showed no interest in the spread. As a demon, she sustained herself by feeding on emotions and life force. Human food held no appeal for her—it provided no sustenance, only fleeting amusement at Jenny's eagerness.

As they settled deeper into the cozy ambiance, Dravisha leaned closer, whispering softly, "Comfortable, little witch?"

Jenny sighed, leaning into the Demoness despite herself. For a fleeting moment, surrounded by warmth and soft light, she allowed herself to imagine she was safe.

Soon, Jenny was half-asleep in Dravisha's lap, lulled by the gentle rhythm of the demoness petting her head. It felt surprisingly tender, though Jenny suspected it was just another attempt to manipulate her. She didn't mind; the gesture helped ease some of the stress gnawing at her frayed nerves.

Outside, the sky had grown dark, the only sounds the crackle of the dying fire and the occasional creak of the old mansion settling. The faint scent of woodsmoke lingered in the air, mingling with the herbal tea they'd shared earlier. Jenny's thoughts drifted as exhaustion overtook her.

Suddenly, the door creaked open unexpectedly. Jenny jolted upright, her heart racing despite her fatigue. There, silhouetted against the dim hallway light, stood Klaus Richter. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into his sharp blue-grey eyes.

"Jenny," he said, surprised.

"Klaus," she replied, scrambling to her feet. Without hesitation, she ran to him, throwing her arms around his tall, broad frame. Leaning into his embrace, she finally felt like a child again—safe and protected.

Richter hugged her back tightly, his calloused hands resting gently on her shoulders. "Welcome home," he murmured, his voice steady but laced with unspoken emotion.

They all made themselves comfortable around the fireplace. As the flames danced softly, casting flickering shadows across the room, they talked about the past—the many childhood memories that bound them together. Eventually, Richter changed the topic.

"So, what brings you back to Bramholt? I thought you'd be busy with the Coven."

Jenny grimaced, unsure how much she should tell him. But as she met his steady gaze, she realized he deserved nothing less than full honesty. Taking a deep breath, she began to explain everything: the demon summoning, her bond with Dravisha, and finally, her exile from the Coven.

Richter listened intently, his sharp blue-grey eyes softening as she spoke. Though his expression remained composed, she noticed the faint tightening of his jaw—a sign of suppressed anger, perhaps, or worry. "Sounds like you're in a lot of trouble," he said finally, his voice heavy with concern. "If there's any way I can help, please let me know."

Jenny nodded, relief washing over her. She hadn't known how he'd react, but his concern filled her with hope.

From the corner of the room, Dravisha watched silently, her amber eyes gleaming with amusement. "How sweet," she purred, leaning closer to Jenny. "Your mortal protector truly cares for you."

Jenny ignored her, "Thank you for everything." She hesitated before adding. "I do need your help with one thing."

Klaus indicated for her to continue.

"I'm going to kill my father."

Richter took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his salt and pepper hair. He'd known this day was coming. Jenny had always made her intentions clear—she wanted revenge, and nothing would sway her. He'd hoped that with the proper care and guidance of the Coven, she might stand a better chance. But now, exiled and unprepared, she was walking straight into danger. "It's reckless," he said, his voice strained. "You'll… you'll die."

"Please," Jenny pleaded, her hands clenched tightly together. "I need to do it. I need to make him pay for what he did."

Richter saw the intensity burning in her eyes—the same fire that had driven Seraphina. He knew she wouldn't listen to reason; if anything, trying to stop her would only push her further away. If he couldn't dissuade her, it was better to do what he could to prevent her from dying. "I will help," he said, his tone firm. "But you have to promise to do exactly what I tell you. We'll be in serious danger—one misstep, and we'll all die. Do you understand?"

Jenny nodded, her resolve unwavering.

Dravisha smirked, her voice dripping with mockery, "Jenny won't die. She's too valuable to me."

Richter's gaze turned to Dravisha, anger marred his face, "She's not a trinket Demon."

Dravisha laughed.

He calmed himself down with deep breaths, there was no use for anger now, what's done is done, he thought. He knew the contract between Jenny and Dravisha was irreversible for now. For now, all he could do was try to mitigate the damage.

They continued their conversation for a while longer before going off to bed.

Jenny woke up far more refreshed the next day. The Demoness had slept on top of her. Initially, they had gotten separate chambers, but Dravisha had snuck into hers in the middle of the night. Jenny hadn't minded; her warmth was cozy. After she untangled herself from the Demoness, she got washed, put on makeup, put on a fresh pair of clothes, namely a skirt, a shirt and a corset bodice. Richter had a surprising selection of female clothing. Her other clothes meanwhile, were drying on the clothesline.

Jenny's sore body had completely disappeared. The Demoness had said that it was due to the demon essence in her, which made recovery remarkably fast. They ate breakfast together before Richter delved more into their plans.

Jenny's father, Lord Aldric Nachtdorn, was a notorious gambler. Part of the reason he gave a false confession against Jenny's mother Seraphina, was to use the inherited wealth he would get to pay off his gambling debts.

"Your father frequents a place called 'The Crimson Paradise," Richter explained. "It's where all the high-stakes gamblers gather. We'll need to forge an identity for you to infiltrate that world—it's the best way to get close to him without drawing too much attention."

Jenny chewed on her scrambled eggs and sausages, swallowing them quickly. "I've been practicing a lot of glamour magic. I can disguise most of my face perfectly."

"That's excellent," Richter nodded approvingly. "But be careful—Inquisitors have glamour detectors. Don't get near any."

"Surely The Crimson Paradise wouldn't have many of those running around," Jenny said skeptically.

"You'd be surprised at the amount of dealings the Church has with the underground," Richter replied grimly. "Now, to attract your father's attention, you'll need to prove yourself as a skilled gambler. How's your card game?"

Jenny smiled faintly, memories flooding back. "As good—or better—than the days when you taught me." She had always been adept at spotting tells and counting cards, skills Richter had honed during their countless games.

"Good," Richter said, sliding a heavy pouch across the table. "I'll loan you a hundred gold marks. Don't lose it."

Jenny gaped. "A hundred?"

"Yes," Richter said firmly. "And you'd better repay me. You'll be posing as a wealthy merchant named Lady Anna Seris. Act confident, act rich—and above all, stay sharp."

"Klaus… thank you."

"That's enough to buy a small estate—or bribe half the officials in Bramholt," Klaus said. "It should be enough to draw the right attention."

Jenny looked at the pouch wide-eyed, her throat tightening. She was to gamble with that? If she lost it, she wouldn't know what to do. She'd owe Richter for the rest of her life—and worse, their entire plan could unravel. Nervously, she reached for the pouch. It clinked softly, its weight settling heavily in her hands—and on her conscience.

"Oh, don't worry, little witch," Dravisha said smugly. "If you lose it, I'll just steal it back from someone else. Plenty of rich fools at gambling dens."

"Please don't, we'll definitely get caught," Jenny said, her voice tinged with panic. She glanced nervously at Richter, hoping he'd intervene.

"Get caught? Me? I'm the master of shadows," Dravisha declared proudly, tossing her hair back. "I'd never get caught." She leaned closer to Jenny, her amber eyes gleaming mischievously. "Which brings us to my part in the plan. What should I do?"

Richter looked at her with mixed feelings, his brow furrowing slightly. He didn't trust the Demoness, but he knew she was their best chance of keeping Jenny safe. "You'll be Jenny's plus one," he explained. "Your role will be to look pretty, distract the other patrons, and protect Jenny if anything goes wrong."

"Look pretty," Dravisha winked an eyebrow at Jenny. "Always."

Klaus sighed, "Just don't cause unnecessary trouble. Also, no flirting between you too outside these premises. You know what society thinks of that."

Dravisha understood. It was her main peeve about the Empire. How could they outlaw Lesbianism? It's absurd. How was she supposed to publicly show her affection for her possession, if it was illegal? After she conquered Jenny, she needed to conquer the Holy Imperium too and change those stupid laws. But baby steps first.

"You humans have silly laws."

"You'll find no argument from me there," Richter said.