“Right-O!” one guard said back.

“See you in one hour,” the other guard said, as he stamped their hands.

The mechanical chain began to rotate loudly as the door cranked open. As it opened downwards, they walked out, over a moat, into the crisp evening air. Inhaling, Hunter knew he had succeeded. He knew they were free and they could be together again—but first they had to go warn Rachel of what was coming her way.

Chapter Eleven

As Violet approached Rachel’s small suburban house, she was seething with rage. She hated domestic family life and everything it stood for. This house was pathetic to her. Everything it represented was pathetic. She summoned the six evil subjects that accompanied her to march in line behind her as she stomped down the stone walkway. She marched up to the door, ready to tear it off its hinges.

She burned with rage as she thought of everything Rachel had done to her. Because of Rachel she had lost Hunter, the love of her life. Rachel had ruined all her plans and put the whole Greslin Coven in danger. This little brat had wasted enough of her time already, and now she was ready to tear her to pieces, and make her suffer. As she stood there, staring at the hideous red door with the brass lion knocker, she couldn’t help but let out a laugh. She knew this would be an epic encounter for Rachel’s sorry parents. She knew this visit would rile them up a bit, and that made her feel warm and happy inside. There was nothing more she loved than to frighten others and make them scared of her.

She reached out her boney finger and hit the doorbell with her black painted fingernail. If there was anything she hated more than this pathetic little girl, it was her pathetic human parents that made her think of her own parents—she was ready to tear them apart already.

They opened the door and glowered down at her condescendingly.

Violet stood there, glaring back at them as they stared the seven of them up and down. They wore all black outfits with the Greslin crest on the breast pockets of their silk button down shirts. Rachel’s parents stood there in their boring Dockers and plaid shirts. They couldn’t have looked more pathetic, Violet thought to herself. She knew this would be easy.

“Can we help you?” Rachel’s dad asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“You most certainly can!” Violet said, as she pushed past John and Betsy and forced her way into their house. “C’mon!” she demanded her subjects.

“Excuse me?” Rachel’s mom, Betsy said. “Who are you?”

“Does that really matter?” Violet said with a cackle.

Violet walked around the downstairs, taking everything in, the smells, the family pictures, and the furniture, all of it. She ran her finger over the dusty coffee table and then put her finger up to her mouth and blew the dust off in Betsy’s face as she stood there in awe watching.

“Now, young lady, what do you think you’re doing? This is our house!” John said, trying to figure out what was going on.

“I’m just getting the lay of the land Pops!” Violet answered.

“Lay of the land?” John questioned.

“Yup! That’s what I said, you going deaf?” Violet snarked.

She watched as John turned bright red in the face and she could tell he was starting to get angry. She loved every minute of it and wanted to keep it going for as long as she could. She knew she had these two, and could torment the crap out of them.

“Would you look at this, the fam!” Violet said as she looked at a painted portrait of Rachel’s family on the beach. “What a lovely painting this is! Although, Pops, with all due respect, you’re not smiling here,” Violet said pointing to his face. “Let me see what I can do!” Violet said as she reached into her black messenger bag and pulled out a black marker. She pulled open the cap and then began to draw a smile on the painting. When she finished she looked at her work, which she knew was downright ugly and said, “There, much better!”

“No, our painting!” cried Betsy. “You’re a monster!”

“I’m going to have to ask you and your, um, friends to leave now,” John said in a stern voice.

Violet stared at him, smelling the fear that oozed off his body. “I’m going to have to ask you and your, um, friends to leave now!” she mocked him. “I don’t think so. Not so fast, we’ve only just arrived here. We couldn’t leave yet,” Violet said as she stared back at the family photo.

“What a lovely fam you’ve got here! Two good-looking parents, and three beautiful children. It must be nice to have such an attractive looking family!” Violet said rhetorically.

“Can we help you with something?” John asked.

“Well, now that you mention it, you can. Why don’t you sit down a moment so we can chat,” Violet asked.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” John said, looking at Betsy as they both shook their heads in agreement.

“SIT DOWN!” Violet repeated herself, this time much louder.

“Don’t tell us what to do in our own home!” John retorted angrily.

“You will sit down this minute!” Violet laughed and summoned two of her subjects to transport them across the room and sit them on the couch opposite Violet. As she watched this pathetic pair float through the air, towards the chairs, she let out a big laugh.

“Help!” Betsy said, as her body lifted off the ground uncontrollably.

“Betsy, I don’t like this!” John said simultaneously.

“Oh stop worrying,” Violet said, “We’re not going to hurt you. We just have a few things we need to talk to you about.”

Violet sat there, looking at the pair, who looked as if they had just been sentenced to the electric chair. Their mouths hung open, their eyes wide with panic and fear. She reveled in this as she sat back in the soft brown leather chair and put her feet up on the white painted coffee table. She then dug her pointy heels into the fresh white paint and watched as it chipped off the table in big white flakes. She could tell Betsy wanted to scream, but didn’t say a word. She knew from this moment on, she had them wrapped around her bony little finger.

“So, I bet you’re wondering why we’ve asked you here today?” Violet asked, as she glared at the two and waited for them to respond.

She waited a minute and then raised one eyebrow in anticipation.

“Cat’s got your tongues, I see!” Violet sneered.

“Well, then, I will just speak and you can listen. Feel free to chime in if the mood strikes you,” Violet said.

“We’re here because of your lovely daughter Rachel,” she began. “We know she’s back and we must find her. Can you tell us where she is?”

Betsy and John looked at each other. “Um, she’s not, um, home right now,” Betsy, stammered.

“And where might that little gem be?” Violet asked.

“Uh, Uh, she’s at school still,” Betsy, said, checking the time on her watch.

“School, eh?” Violet questioned. “When does she get back?”

Betsy looked back down at her watch and said, “Well, I’m not too sure actually. I don’t know what she had planned after school today.”

“Some mother you are! You don’t even know where your own kid is,” Violet patronized.

“You watch it!” John said, sticking up for his wife.

Violet looked at one of her subjects and shook her head. The subject went over to John and touched his throat, completely disengaging his voice box from making any sounds. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. He grasped his throat and rubbed his neck, but nothing could fix it.

“That’s better!” Violet said. “You know, it upsets me when I get yelled at. I was never into authority figures,” she said, staring at John.

“Well then maybe you can answer me this. Why did she align herself with the Vladiccus Coven?”

“The Vlad what?” Betsy asked.

“The VLADICCUS COVEN,” Violet spoke slowly and clearly.

“What on earth is that?” Betsy asked back, cowardly.

“Ugh!” Violet grunted. “I don’t have time to walk you through this right now and I would appreciate it if you stopped pretending not to know what I am talking about.”

“But, I don’t, I promise you, I don’t know who that is,” Betsy said in a frightened tone.

“Listen, if you’re going to play dumb with us, we’re going to have to find some way to get it out of you,” Violet said.

“What’s the coven’s plan for war then? Why don’t you riddle me that?” Violet laughed.

“War?” Betsy cried. “I don’t know, please, I swear.”

John tried to open his mouth again to talk, but nothing came out.

“Sorry, Sir, can’t hear you, why don’t you speak up!” Violet asked as she commanded her subject to undo the spell she’d put on him.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” John said, his voice suddenly booming with volume.

“That’s better! We can hear you now. I hope that will teach you to watch your tone with me Pops,” Violet insisted.

Violet watched as Betsy took out her cell phone to make a call. She didn’t know whom she was dialing, but didn’t want to wait and find out. She looked at the phone, held out her bony hand and wiggled her fingers toward her as the phone flew out of Betsy’s hand and into hers. She looked at the number on the screen—911—and then broke the phone in half with one hand and laid it down on the coffee table.

“That’s rude!” Violet said. “We were in the middle of a conversation!”

“But, my phone!” Betsy said.

“Now, where were we?” Violet asked. “Oh right, back to your wonderful daughter Rachel.”

“We don’t have any information for you. She just got back last night. We have barely spoken to her about her disappearance. I’m sorry, we truly don’t have any answers for you,” John said, cowardly.