"You are a witch too…" on Robarte's words, Damien lips twisted into a smile.

"No, thanks. Did you think I was a spoiled pompous man? That, that was all I had in me?" Damien pulled out the cork that creaked slowly as he purposely took his time. Feeding on fear like men and women like these was something Damien enjoyed the most. He loved and when the fear was slowly reeking out of the witcher though he tried to hide it, Damien couldn't help himself but bask in it.

"How did you disappear? Was it the girl who helped you?" Robarte questioned, wanting to find out answers. 

"Didn't make a background check on me? I must say you did quite a poor job. Why don't you think about what happened in your afterlife?" and the next moment, Damien had pulled the trigger for the bullet to launch into the witcher's head. 

But Damien didn't stop there. He continued to load the bullet into the man's head one after another without a stop until all the bullets had turned empty in his revolver. Feeling the wet blood on his hand as he had been holding the witcher's head before he let go of the man who fell sideways on the ground. 

Damien stared at the man for long minutes, pulling out the kerchief from his pocket to clean his b.l.o.o.d.y hand before throwing the used kerchief on the ground which was soaked in black blood. There were rules that ran in the family and though some could be overlooked, this was one of the things he couldn't. 

If anyone ever thought about harming his family or people who belonged to him, then no one was supposed to be spared. They would all need to die. To either set an example or to remove them along with their thoughts. He had acquired this quality from his late mother. Robarte was dead as he laid there with his heart that had stopped beating when Damien had put the second bullet into his head. 

The man had killed too many women and G.o.d only knew how many more he had killed apart from the ones that were up in the room. Most of the black witches were born psychotic but this man and his sister...they were a piece of art. 

Leaving the dead witch behind, he went in search of where Penelope and her mother were in the house. 

Penny had been running away from her mother as she had started to throw double-sided knives at such speed that she was finding it hard to find an opening to attack her. The room was big with a long looking table which she a.s.sumed that they were in the dining room of this mansion. 

"You have learned quite some new tricks since we last met, dear. Who taught you those?" her mother asked while she dodged around the room by going behind the chairs and throwing it at her mother. 

"Why do you want to know? So that you can erase them too?" Penny shot back for the woman to smile. 

"You must be really hurt after finding out about your memories. Don't worry, you will get over it," her mother spoke nonchalantly. 

"I don't have to worry about anything. Everything comes back around, mother. Did you know that?" she asked while turning her body away and right at that moment, the knife pa.s.sed through her arm making her flinch because it opened the skin up. 

"I will need you to be clearer, dead. And stop mumbling," her mother walked around taking a short break so that she could play with the girl a little more, "I was thinking of taking you away with me once I was back from the dead, but who knew that you would have been sold. One way it was good that Marion did sell you, at least I didn't have the responsibility but there were times I thought I will take you with me."

"What made you think I would come with you?" Penny spoke back to the woman, "I will never live with you. You aren't my mother not by relation at least."

"Hard truth, Penny but I am the one who gave birth to you. I know you wouldn't. You would have got rather comfortable living as one of the young pureblooded vampire slaves. Have you forgotten about the mind spell? One flick and you will forget everything." 

"That is all you know. A woman who cannot love because you don't deserve to be loved. You killed the man who loved and protected you since he knew you."

Her mother tilted her head, a smile on her lips, "What can I say about black witches-"

"No," Penny interrupted her, shaking her head she said, "Don't blame it on you being a black witch. Even a black witch has compa.s.sion and feelings. You are nothing but a hollow, selfish woman. Like an object who doesn't breathe because you are already dead." 

The smile that Laurae had been giving her daughter, faltered on her lips, "It seems like you have forgotten the good times we had together."

"Things you did for yourself? I feel sorry for you. I don't feel like calling you as my mother, or the woman who was married to my father. You don't deserve either of it," Penny's words came out to be emotionless because she was done crying over it.

For what she had done to her father... the look on his face was something that broke her heart. The pain he would have felt when her mother had raised her hand before slitting his throat, Penny was not going to forgive the woman.