Did I ever tell you guys what he is, exactly? See if you can figure it out.
The shaft of light that held the witch at bay grew brighter as she stared hard at
. A slight smile twitched at her lips as a visible hunger grew in her eyes. They burned for the book in Charlotte ’s hand, her grimoire. All of Charlottes knowledge, her spells and sigils, all the things she used to banish evil spirits was in that book. Charlotte
François watched them both anxiously. He didn’t like the look in the witch’s eye but the mania in
’s disturbed him more. He was used to her calm demeanor, her level headed and cold approach to every situation. And yet, he knew that look. He was sure he was wearing a similar expression himself. He didn’t know how he’d come by it, but he had an acute fondness for fighting, for battle. Charlotte
He enjoyed the sensation of being powerful; exerting his will and strength over his opponents was, at one time, his greatest joy. He allowed himself a smile at the thought of his more recent domestic joys.
Yes, he knew the look in
’s eyes and he couldn’t wait to see what she could do. It seemed, however, that he wouldn’t get the chance. The movement was subtle, but unmistakable. The witch, with that small gesture, dismissed the goblins who had resurrected her and started the fight. Charlotte
“Eh bien, Papa Legba help me.” François ended his invocation and drew a small glass bottle from his pocket. He tossed this on the ground and, drawing a deep breath, smashed it with his heavy cudgel. The mixture of rum and honey seeped into the soft earth of the temple floor. Raising the cudgel in a spiral motion, François called for aid from the spirits that had once sheltered his swamp from prying eyes.
The ground began to tremble. François could feel the earth shifting and his help pushing up towards the surface. He quickly scanned the room and with a flick of the cudgel brought the long buried roots of ancient plants erupting to the surface to ensnare the goblins. Despite the centuries he spent lazing in the swamp, François had quick reflexes and in a matter of moments had all the goblins trapped and struggling against the writhing vines and roots that held them.
François let out his held breath and sent a silent thanks to the spirits. He turned his attention then to the witch who was still staring at
. Though neither of them was speaking, he could feel the pull of their will, silently pushing and tugging at one another in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Charlotte