Chapter 25

"Johnny, you seem oddly okay with me being a witch," she said, tilting her head. "Aren't you scared to be around me?"

"I recently studied my family tree," he said, meeting her gaze fearlessly. "One of my ancestors was a real inquisitor."

"How many witches did he burn?"

"None. But he did burn three hundred corrupt priests and got excommunicated for it."

Wanda burst out laughing.

"What a dark irony!" she said, catching her breath. "Johnny, I hope you similar after your ancestor."

"More than you think," Johnny thought, remembering Noble Kale, the Ghost Inquisitor.

"Is that your motorcycle?" Wanda pointed at the bike. "Let's get out of here."

"Leave this roof?" Johnny set down the empty beer can. "I'm not against it, but where to?"

"I know we've only known each other for 15 minutes, but I have a favor to ask," she said, locking eyes with him. "If you're not busy, could you give me a ride home?"

"Sure," Johnny agreed easily.

He usually turned down girls asking for rides. It was his way of keeping others at a distance, protecting them from his curse. But something about Wanda, this brooding witch, drew his dark soul toward her.

They climbed onto his motorcycle and vanished into the night.

///

Johnny pulled his motorcycle up to the grand entrance of a luxurious hotel in the heart of New York City. The golden sign gleamed under the streetlights, and glittering chandeliers were visible through the glass doors. He removed his helmet and glanced at Wanda, still sitting behind him.

"You live here?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Wanda hopped off the bike, smoothed her skirt, and shot him a look from beneath thickly lined lashes.

"Temporarily," she replied. "I'd prefer a small apartment, but my father insists that even outside the family castle, I have to live in a mansion."

Johnny snorted.

"You have a castle? What are you, a princess?"

Wanda squinted, her eyes flashing.

"Call me that again, and I'll turn you into a toad."

He smiled but said nothing. As she adjusted her black nail polish, Johnny studied her. The gothic style suited her perfectly. Her dark beauty, like Wanda herself, was mysterious—something that kept him on edge.

When he revved his motorcycle, Wanda stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going? You promised to help."

"I thought you just needed a ride," Johnny said, turning off the engine.

"Wrong. I need help in my room."

She turned and headed toward the hotel entrance without waiting for a response. Johnny sighed in frustration but followed her inside anyway.

The hotel's interior was even more luxurious than its exterior. Johnny followed Wanda, taking in the surroundings: marble floors, gilded railings, mirrors in antique frames. This world felt alien, as if it didn't belong to ordinary people.

They were silent in the elevator. Wanda stared at her reflection in the doors, nervously fidgeting with a ring, while Johnny tried to figure out what kind of help she might need from him.

"Definitely not to fix a leaky faucet," he thought. "Maybe it's a trap? Am I walking into something like black-market surgeons or worse? Fine by me. The cross on my neck demands punishment for sinners, and taking out a couple of thugs earlier was just a warm-up."

When the elevator doors opened, Wanda nodded at him and walked down the hallway. She opened the door to her suite, and as Johnny stepped inside, his gaze was swallowed by the overwhelming luxury.

"You live here alone?" he muttered.

"Yes, but I don't use half the space," Wanda replied, sitting down on the massive canopy bed. She gestured to a chair across from her. "Sit. I need to talk to you."

Johnny sat, tense, waiting to see where this was going.

"Johnny, listen to me carefully. Will you intercourse with me?"

He froze. That was unexpected. His heart, long unfamiliar with surprises, suddenly started pounding wildly. He tried to stay calm, but his voice wavered.

"Why?"

Wanda looked away, then turned back, her expression serious.

"It's simple. In a year to kill me, and I don't want to die a virgin."

"In a year? Is this a prophecy? Who's going to kill you?"

"None of your business," she snapped. "Now, will you help me or not?"

Johnny studied her, trying to make sense of it all.

"Why me?" he asked.

"I found you through magic. You're the one I need. And no, escorts won't do. I want someone who's close to me in spirit, not a paid service. So, you agree?"

Johnny considered. He already realized pressing her about this mysterious killer was pointless. It was a simple yes or no.

He looked at the girl he'd met just 30 minutes ago. A girl with demons the size of horses in her head. The only girl in New York who'd invite guy in room over before a first meeting.

Wanda fit seamlessly into his chaotic life.

"Alright, I'm in," Johnny said, taking off his jacket.

"Clean yourself up first!" Wanda pointed to the bathroom.

/////

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