Chapter 218
The officer grumbled under his breath, but his grip was firm as he pinned the suspect to the ground. Along with backup that arrived promptly, they worked through the night to transport the writhing man to the hospital.
Unbeknownst to them, at the exact same time across the city, in an upscale neighborhood, a seventeen–year–old boy was undergoing the same horrific ordeal as Lyndon.
It felt like his soul was being flayed alive. The pain was so intense it seemed like death would be a mercy, yet his mind was agonizingly lucid.
His body bore no visible wounds, but any touch from his family sent him into fits of pain as if he were being torn apart.
Unlike Lyndon, who tore at his own flesh in agony, this boy turned on his family, clawing at their skin with such force that their faces and bodies became a blur of blood and tissue,
The family stood frozen in shock, convinced the boy had finally snapped from his cruel habit of tormenting
cats.
Only the cat abusers themselves knew the truth.
They were being avenged. The spirits of the cats and dogs they had tortured had returned for retribution.
The vengeance of the Ghost Cats persisted until the break of dawn.
Winnie, who hadn’t slept a wink, watched as the last wisp of malice dissipated with the early morning light. She let out a faint sigh of relief before finally closing her eyes to sleep.
The next day, the internet was still abuzz with the events of the previous day, but no one knew the perpetrators had received a life–altering punishment.
At the center of the city, within the walls of a stately manor, an elderly man with salt–and–pe
r
glared at the online discussions. Finally, he clicked on a compilation of Winnie’s moments circuing online.
Watching the girl who was barely eighteen, yet had masked her own destiny, a cold gleam sparked in his murky eyes.
“Turns out it’s you,” he rasped, his voice rough like the bellows of an accordion, “interfering so many times, destroying my vengeful creations.”
Such a young girl, flaunting her little skills so boldly.
“She’s bound to stumble.”
At the Bryant Manor, Winnie suddenly awoke from her quiet slumber. She had an eerie sensation as if a wave of malice had just brushed against her.
Before she could ponder the fleeting palpitation, her bedroom door was knocked upon by the family’s housekeeper.
“Miss Winnie, the Goodwins have come to visit, and your father requests your presence downstairs.”
Glancing at the clock and noticing it was already ten in the morning, Winnie quickly got ready and descended the staircase.
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Many visitors from the Bryant community had come the day before to express their gratitude for the children’s rescue.
Among them were the Goodwins, one of the four prominent families of Emerald Bay, though their relationship with the Bryants was less than friendly.
An ancestral rivalry meant the Goodwins were always competing with the Bryants in business and social standing, a known fact within their circle. Despite the tension, neither family had reached the point of an outright feud.
One of the children caught in the airport attack belonged to the Goodwins, who had scoffed at superstitions like geomancy and had led the refusal of Bacchus‘ “good intentions.”
After the incident, albeit feeling humiliated, they were quick to send gifts of gratitude.
Yet, for some reason, they had returned today.
When Winnie reached the living room, she found Horace already in conversation with Jarrod Goodwin, the young patriarch of the Goodwin family. Though peers by generation, Jarrod was several years Horace’s
senior.
The Goodwin child involved in the attack was his only daughter.
At thirty–four, Jarrod looked remarkably youthful. His presence exuded sophistication, but as he turned to Winnie, his expression was grave.
Winnie understood his concern as he explained, “You see, my daughter was tormented by nightmares last night, and it seems she’s been touched by some residual malevolence from those Ghost Cats.”
Winnie hadn’t anticipated this complication since Lyndon hadn’t actually gotten close to the children. Nor had she expected any of them to be affected by the spectral felines‘ spite.
Fortunately, with the dissipating malice of the previous night, Winnie wasn’t worried.
Handing Jarrod a Safety Charm, she instructed, “Keep this on her and take her out to soak
sunshine for the next couple of days. She’ll be fine.”
Jarrod’s face betrayed a flicker of skepticism as he accepted the folded charm. His family had never believed in such things, even with rumors of Winnie’s mystical talents. But after yesterday, disbelief was a luxury he could no longer afford.
When his daughter exhibited strange behavior, Jarrod’s thoughts went straight to Winnie. Preferring her assistance over dubious alternatives, he came to seek her help. Hearing that it wasn’t serious, he expressed his gratitude sincerely.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Winnie replied, “That’ll be two thousand for the Safety Charm.”
Jarrod’s expression was priceless, and Winnie raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You’re not planning to leave without paying, are you?”
Horace couldn’t help but snicker at the side.
Jarrod, a bit embarrassed but quick on the uptake, whipped out his phone and said awkwardly, “I’ll transfer it to you.”
Winnie pulled out her own phone, and they completed the transaction with ease.
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Jarrod practically bolted from the room, while Horace collapsed onto the sofa, laughing.
It was a rare sight indeed to see Jarrod with his pride dented.
Winnie had done him proud.
Downstairs, the laughter was infectious as Springer and the other youngsters clattered down the stairs in a ruckus, already keyed up with the buzz that the Goodwin clan was coming over,
It was only after the visitors had left that Springer strutted around, puffing out his chest and humming a tune of self–satisfaction.
“Winnie kindly reminded them, that they didn’t listen, and as a result, when there was an accident, they still had to seek Winnie’s help. Yesterday, Grandpa didn’t even have to send a special bodyguard to follow and protect them, giving their family a reminder was already good.”
After all, their family’s heads–up was a courtesy, not an obligation.
They were barely grateful yesterday, and now, when trouble hits, they come knocking.
“Springer, how can you think like that? It’s good to help those kids out,” Amber chided from the side, not quite agreeing with his point of view.
Amber had often spoken to him like this, but ever since they had a falling out, every word she said made him roll his eyes.
“What’s it to you? Stop trying to sound like my sister. I’ve told you before, that I only have one sister, Winnie.”
Didn’t he know that helping kids was important?
Did he need her to tell him that?
How had he never noticed her high–and–mighty tone before?
Indeed, he had been so foolish.
Springer brooded in silent self–reproach.
As the younger ones chatted away, Bacchus seemed to have descended the stairs unnoticed and had apparently caught the tail–end of Springer and Amber’s exchange.
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