Fiona glanced at her high priestess perplexed. The child givers were forbidden from speaking about the man with whom they had a child. Once the deed was done, the child giver was supposed to forget the man and never speak of him.
Some witches went as far as casting spells on themselves so as to avoid ever remembering the man's face. It was considered an omen to ever think of the father of the child. And when such a thing happened, a thorough cleansing was followed.
Men were considered impure, they were tossed aside and forgotten once the seed was sown.
"But your highness, we are not supposed to talk about that. It is forbidden," Fiona replied.
"In order to find your son, we have to find the father," she replied, and led the way, urging Fiona to follow her.
Fiona froze for a second; Igram's disappearance had nothing to do with the man she slept with. Ezeldah was running mad. She was running out of options and coming up with ridiculous plans. As it was, Fiona was the outcast of the Coven, leaving under the mercy of the obsessed priestess and her being forced to recall the man she slept with was going to make her a laughing stock.
"No no, Igram never asked about her father. She had no idea the thing existed," Fiona replied, running behind her.
Ezeldah stopped and turned; "I am not saying she has run off to her father. I need the man's scent or hair," she replied.
Fiona's eyes almost popped out of her sockets as the statement came out.
On the other side of the world, miles, and miles away from home. Igram was neatly tucked into a very expensive black tuxedo with a glass of wine in his hand. He stood on the stairs, glancing over the various rich guests with glistening eyes that were in attendance at the fundraising dinner.
It was like a shark thrown into the fish pond. He kept tapping on his leg out of excitement. He began thinking he had made the right decision in canceling the late night with the women.
Down below him was his pool of targets to choose from. He had spent time coming up with a particular type when it came to choosing his targets, and that it did not involve women. No matter how beautiful they were or how rich they were, it was a no-go area.
There was no way he would risk his life running away from a coven that forced him to live as a member only if he was the opposite gender, only for him to shape shift and begin living the life of the same thing he was running away from. So women were crossed out of his list. However, in case of an emergency that required luring or escaping, he was always open.
He scanned the crowd for his target, someone preferably in his late twenties or thirties. Preferably single in order to avoid wives or children. Such womanizers were extremely selfish, and he was unconcerned about destroying their lives.
In the crowd, he noted some notable not-so-bad faces. There were not many as it was a fundraising dinner. Such events usually attracted old and rich men. Such men he also avoided. The last thing he wanted was to shapeshift into a weakling old body.
His target was supposed to be young, energetic, handsome, and, of course, filthy rich. And if they were single, it was an added advantage for him to push them to the top of his list.
As he stared at the crowd, a beautiful blond kept staring at him and winking at him. At first, he tried pretending as if he did not notice her as he was busy with his scouting. The last thing he wanted was a distraction, he was at work and work required all his divided attention.
However the woman could not give up or let him be despite his lack of attention, she wanted his attention. The face he had stolen was supposed to know her, yet he could not pinpoint her out of the thousand women's faces that were popping in his head, therefore distracting him.
The identity he had stolen was a man whore, he noted as he looked away and drank his wine.
The woman got frustrated, her face evident, and walked up the stairs.
Igram rolled his mouth in irritation. One thing he was forgetting was that the lives he was replacing had people in them that he was supposed to know and associate with if he was to maintain his cover.
"Seriously, after what happened in Rome, you are going to ignore me just like that?" The woman, who seemed pissed, whispered to him in a direct tone.
"Ooh, Rome," Igram replied, blank and unsure of what she was talking about. He spotted the hotel manager speaking to a man that fit his target.
"If you do not mind me asking, do you know that man?" he asked the lady, pointing at the man. He always did the diverting trick when he had no idea who he was talking to. It avoided name-mixing, and awkward topics that he had no clue about, and most importantly, it allowed him to direct the flow of the conversation.
Even though his shifting was unique, there was a limit to what he could do in the short time frame of a new body.
The woman stared at him, pissed, "Mark, you are a pig!" She yelled loud enough for the people that were near him to hear. One, in particular, was a couple. They passed the stairs going up. The man appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was in the company of a beautiful young girl who looked too young even though the makeup was trying to make her look older.
But Igram could see through it. He was good at detecting how old a person was. It appeared it was the added advantage to his shape-shifting.
He wondered what a young girl was doing at such a party.
However, what got his attention was the man's gold rings on his fingers. The gold was real, he could smell it and he wanted it.
"Hey, are you high on something?" The young woman yelled at him when she noticed his attention was on the couple.
He replied, "You have to excuse me, ooh and Rome was quite lovely," he replied, ditching her, not knowing exactly what happened in Rome.
He'd just spotted his prey: a man who wasn't afraid to flaunt his wealth but was reckless with it. Even though this was not on his target list, he included it and quickly walked in the direction of the couple.
He wanted the gold rings. He was always drawn to shiny things. He could only imagine what other shiny things the man had in his collection.
He turned a corner and found the man yelling at the girl. He could not hear what they were talking about, but the man seemed pissed.
Igram turned some steps back and hid in the corner. He wondered if the girl was the daughter and the man was the father, who was furious with finding her at the party.
The girl broke into tears. The man raised his hand in an attempt to slap her but froze and looked in Igram's direction. He could feel the eyes that were watching.
"Stay here and do not move," he ordered the girl and began walking in Igram's direction.
Igram heard the footsteps and quickly walked away, back to the party as quickly as he could.
He had not expected the man to notice him. His targets never noticed him. He was always careful and articulate in his stalking and sometimes he used spells though not in the current situation.
The man reached the corner but found no one. He was very sure someone was there watching him. He folded his arms in irritation. If he was not with the merchandise, he would have pursued the idiot that dared him.
He walked back to the girl and held her hand. She was still crying and scared.
"Hey look at me!" He ordered her in a commanding tone.
With fear and shaky hands, the girl looked up at him, straight into his eyes. He snapped his fingers twice. "Control yourself, this is what you want. You want to be here," he commanded, his eyes looking around to make sure no one was watching him.
The girl snapped out of it and smiled, "Yes, I want to be here. Yes Mr. Pickford, I want to be here," she said.
The man smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Call me Richard, and yes, you asked to be here," he replied and held out his hand for her.
"Now hold my hand, I want you to meet someone," he said.
"Yes, Richard," she said, grabbing his hand.
The man led her to the elevator, and the two walked in smiling.