Chapter 222: 223: The Great Escape from Randall Gorge · Part 2

Words : 1249 Updated : Oct 10th, 2025

As a witch, Penelope had encountered her fair share of magical creatures. Most of them, however, had been introduced to her through the Care of Magical Creatures elective, and truly dangerous dark creatures were ones she had rarely—if ever—seen in person. That changed today. After parting ways with Yulisa, the maid Miss Theresa stepped through the side doors of the manor and made her way to the courtyard to fetch the car. The Sistine Manor's courtyard was vast. Gothic statues stood tall, twisted trees with withered branches let out eerie cackles in the cold air, and a small garden flourished with monstrous pitcher plants. There was even a fountain that constantly spewed a deep, crimson liquid. Penelope tried her best not to dwell on what exactly that liquid might be. But even if she ignored it, the other sights before her were enough to send shivers down her spine. There were stitched-together zombies tossing something in a game of catch—only upon closer inspection, Penelope realized they were throwing around the decapitated head of a Headless Horseman. Each time the head soared through the air, it shrieked out curses in a guttural, ghostly wail. A cluster of dark elves huddled in a shadowed corner, quietly exchanging insights on cultivating cursed plants. Death Knights, their skeletal frames clad in ancient armor, stood solemnly—only, they weren't entirely still. Tiny vampire fledglings clambered onto their shoulders, giggling as if they were riding on the backs of playground ponies. The knights, impossibly, seemed to be indulging them. Then, a sharp clap echoed through the courtyard. Miss Theresa had only lifted her hands, but it was enough. The zombies halted mid-throw, the dark elves stopped their hushed whispers, the Headless Horseman's curses died down, and the Death Knights straightened into rigid lines as if they were well-disciplined soldiers awaiting orders. "I believe we should begin decorating the courtyard," Theresa announced. "All of you may retrieve decorations from the first-floor storeroom—white silk, black floral arrangements, and a generous amount of white candles. Let's ensure our masters have the perfect atmosphere for the festivities." A murmur spread among the various undead servants before they nodded in agreement. Efficient and disciplined, they moved swiftly, fetching the black-and-white decorations and enlisting the help of bats to scatter delicate paper flowers across the ground. Penelope, however, could not believe what she was witnessing. This was Christmas, was it not? Miss Theresa, did you misunderstand something? Why were you decorating the Sistine Manor as if it were a mourning hall? Did someone die? Penelope increasingly felt like she would never understand vampires. Even their servants seemed utterly incomprehensible. Theresa, satisfied with the progress, gave a final glance around before moving on. However, after only a few steps, the air thickened with the overwhelming scent of blood. The stench hit Penelope like a physical force, making her stomach lurch violently. She swayed, nearly collapsing under the wave of nausea. "Lady Sheila," Theresa greeted smoothly, bowing slightly toward the direction of the forest. A moment later, a sleek black panther emerged from the shadows, its movements sinuous and elegant. It stretched languidly on the cobblestone path before its form shimmered and twisted—morphing into Lady Sheila. If the Sheila Penelope had met at the ball had been infuriating, then the Sheila before her now was downright terrifying. Her hands dripped with fresh blood, and the elegant gown she wore was splattered with viscera and raw, torn flesh. She looked as though she had just finished a gruesome feast. "Ah, isn't this Nolan's maid?" Sheila's ice-cold eyes flicked over Theresa. "And what are you, exactly?" "I am a zombie, Lady Sheila." "Ah, I see." Sheila's gaze darkened. "Zombies are sterile creatures, which means you won't be using that filthy body to seduce my Nolan, will you?" She smiled—a slow, deliberate smile, stained with blood. It sent a chill down Penelope's spine. Sheila chuckled, her laughter high and sharp. Then, as though her paranoia had been momentarily soothed, her expression softened. "Forgive me, Theresa. You understand, don't you? Nolan is my future husband. He attracts far too many fox spirits around him. It is my duty to clean them up—one by one." "I understand, Lady Sheila," Theresa replied without a hint of emotion. "Earlier, you were in the forest..." "Ah, werewolves," Sheila answered with a dismissive wave of her bloodied hand. "It must be their mating season. The ones in London were already restless, and even out here in the countryside, they remain the same. You know how I detest social balls, so I asked Felicia for a more useful task—to personally ensure the security of Randall Gorge throughout the holiday." "I see... However, Lady Sheila, there is a guardian here by the name of Shafa—" "I know," Sheila snapped impatiently. "I know that she's Nolan's chosen fledgling. I know what can and cannot be killed. Do not order me around, zombie, or I will tear you apart." With that cold threat, Sheila's form shimmered once more, shifting back into her panther shape. She leapt into the trees, disappearing into the darkness. Penelope, still hidden under the Disillusionment Charm, could feel her entire body trembling. She swallowed hard, the icy sweat clinging to her back. Theresa remained where she stood, deep in thought. Then, with a composed air, she turned on her heel. At that moment— "Well, isn't she a terrifying woman?" A melodic voice broke through the mist. From the swirling fog emerged a striking woman in a gothic gown—her pale skin almost luminescent in the dim courtyard. "Lady Stephanie, you have arrived." Theresa gave a small bow. "My apologies, I was about to drive to the marshlands to retrieve you." "No need," the woman called Stephanie replied casually. "You know me, Theresa. Before becoming a necromancer, I was, first and foremost, a witch." She lifted her right hand slightly, twirling a sleek wand between her fingers. "Though I never managed to graduate, shadow-stepping remains one of my favorite skills. I'm thinking of teaching it to Nolan this year. He's already mastered Apparition, hasn't he?" "Yes, he has." "Excellent. Shadow-stepping is far safer than Apparition—and much faster. He'll love it." Stephanie's lips curled into an amused smile. "And where is dear Nolan? Ah... I think I know. With so many male vampires gathered under one roof, I suppose they're off indulging in their usual game—hunting girls in the nearby Muggle towns." She sighed theatrically. "Take me inside to rest for a while. But before that..." Stephanie's eyes flicked toward the seemingly empty space where Penelope stood invisible. Then, she winked. "And who might this adorable little witch be?" ——— Damn it. She had been discovered. Penelope's heart nearly stopped. But the most terrifying part was yet to come. "That would be Miss Penelope," Theresa answered smoothly, without even turning around. "She is His Highness's new fledgling. However, she is a quiet one—she prefers to keep herself under a concealment spell at all times. Thus, I have advised everyone not to interact with her, so that she may enjoy her solitude in peace." "Oh?" Stephanie's smile widened, her sharp eyes never leaving Penelope's invisible form. "How considerate of you, Theresa." And just like that, she let it go—as if she had never seen anything at all. Penelope felt her breath catch in her throat. She had barely escaped.

Chapter 222: 223: The Great Escape from Randall Gorge · Part 2

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