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Two ◑ The Vow

Lucille felt like she'd just gotten punched between the eyes. "His life?"

"His life," Mia confirmed, her lower lip quivering. Her brown eyes had gone flinty, but they were shining with tears. "I want him to be gone."

"Well, that's rather. . . ." Lucille trailed off, catching Agnes's gaze. For a while, they clamped their lips together and stayed silent, but it didn't take long before they cracked up. Their laughter filled the entire sitting room, all the way up to the chandelier hanging in the white ceiling. "I'm sorry, dear. It's just—his life? Really?"

Christie's face scrunched up in indignation and confusion. "You said everything is possible!"

"Yes, but I can't possibly just pop into the company and take a knife to the man's neck." Lucille snorted. "Are you both delirious? I don't even have a clue about what he did to your granddaughter."

She flashed a pointed look at Mia, who was only able to maintain eye contact for about two seconds before hanging her head. Her hands tightened on her lap, her knuckles white. When she spoke again, her voice was quivering, but more out of numb rage rather than fear. "You don't know my pain. You don't know how I feel, so it's easy for you to laugh."

The words were nothing but droplets of poisonous insults trickling down Lucille's head.

"Really?" Her voice was scalding cold. She rose to her feet, and the temperature in the room rose to an uncomfortably warm level. "Try me, Mia. Try me."

"Er, why don't you tell us what happened?" Agnes intervened, easing Lucille back onto her red chair. "You should understand, we are more than willing to get our hands dirty, but we have to make sure it's well-deserved. Like Miss Lucille said, we can't just show up there and hurt the guy—"

"But you did that to my husband!" Christie interrupted shrilly. "You went into his office and got him!"

Lucille cracked a biscuit in half, but it ended up disintegrating in her palms. "After weeks of planning. I didn't do it the moment you told me too. If I followed your idiotic plan and your even more idiotic instincts, you would have been incarcerated. Or dead."

The old woman deflated. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." She turned to Mia. "And you—if you want to leave this suite intact, don't disrespect me again."

Once again she shot up from her seat, throwing the biscuit crumbs on the floor, where they spontaneously erupted in white flames. Since this was a regular occurrence, Agnes casually took the fire extinguisher hidden beside the leather sofa and calmly put out the fire.

"Well?" Lucille arched an eyebrow. "Speak, Mia."

The young woman opened her mouth, hesitated, and bursted into tears. Christie wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders, whispering soothing words. Lucille and Agnes waited silently, and after a few moments, Mia began to speak.

"I-I got hired as an intern," she said, wiping her cheeks. "I was a college freshman. I didn't meet him up until three months of working there, running errands and delivering memos inside the office. He was nice and kind. The other employees didn't care much about me, but he did. They thought I was a stupid, unnecessary addition to the company, but he encouraged me to be better. He helped me. He spent time talking to me, including me in projects that otherwise would've been passed over my head."

Lucille peeked at her Cartier watch. "And?"

"I was charmed," Mia continued. The last word left her lips as a whisper, like she was embarrassed about it. "I was young. I didn't know better. I fell for him hard. At that time I was ready to give him everything if he asked, and I did. Even if he didn't ask. I gave it all, and for a while everything was great. Then at this office gathering, I saw him kissing the new intern. I was pushed to the side, and later on I got fired. Dad basically disowned me when he found out, and he refused to pay my tuition. I couldn't find a job anywhere, and my life is just meaningless. I know it's my fault, but he just . . . He was my first. I told him he was."

The silence in the room was almost tangible. Mia broke it by breaking into sobs, burrowing close to her grandmother and clutching her chest. It seemed that the simple act of recounting the events had reopened the wounds.

Lucille understood. Perhaps a bit too much. She could feel her own heart reacting, beating in a wild, stinging pace.

"So he took advantage of your youth," Agnes said, scratching the side of her head. "How old are you again?"

"Nineteen."

"And this happened when?"

"Last year. I was eighteen. I tried to talk to a lawyer but I was told that I can't—"

"Take him to court," Lucille finished in distaste. "And if he's such a bigshot as you made him out to be, you'll have no chance. He'll be covering up his ass in record time. Also, given that you've been fired, he could just say that you're making up stories to get back at him. Jokes on him, because we are getting back at him."

Mia looked up hopefully. "You're going to end him?"

"Easy there, tiger," she replied dryly. "Cade Linden is a waste of space, yes, but death is far too much of a consequence. We give justice. We don't dole out punishments like Santa on Christmas Eve. The best we can do is destroy his life like he destroyed yours, make him lose everything. His job, his people, his power. Then he'll have no one to blame but himself."

"Yes, that's it." Christie nodded fervently and turned to Mia. "Don't worry about ever seeing him again. After this, we're moving away, and we're starting over. You're starting over."

"That's correct." Lucille held out her hand. "If you're ready to take this offer, let's shake on it."

For full ten seconds, none of them spoke. Mia was staring at Christie questioningly, and all the while the old woman was nodding, beckoning her to agree. Eventually, Mia lifted her hand, casted a glance at Agnes, and grasped Lucille's palm.

Immediately, red light filled the room.

The source was their linked hands, the tiny space between their palms. A vicious red glow was emanating from it with the power of a thousand bulbs. In contrast to the color, however, the temperature in the sitting room plummeted. From nowhere, cold wind blew inside, encasing them in a freezing atmosphere that pinned them in their places. Strange sounds began to appear, an orchestra of hums, chanting, and a slow haunting tune that chilled the guests to the bone.

"I shall deliver to you the downfall of the man who have brought upon your destruction," Lucille recited. The hums around them turned into howls, as though they were cheering her on. "And you must leave after we have accomplished our objective. You shall go far and live long."

Surprised at the supernatural events transpiring, Mia tried to back away, but Lucille held her in place. She couldn't pry her hands on the witch's anyway; their bond was locked.

The cacophony of strange voices reached their crescendo, and before they knew it, the light had dissipated. The sounds vanished. All that was left was the four women.

But it was far from over.

Agnes left and disappeared into the hallway for a second, then she returned with a small golden box in hand. She took this to Lucille, who sat back on her chair and gestured them to sit again.

"I think you know now that such a service doesn't come for free," she told Mia and Christie as she cleared the glass table between them. "We have made the vow, and now it's time I collect my fee."

Mia reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, but Agnes stopped her. "We don't collect money. Unless it's for court services."

Christie looked scared. "Is it alright if I pay instead?"

"No." Lucille's red lips curved. "You're too old for this, Christie. Let your granddaughter shoulder the cost."

"But what is the cost?" Mia asked.

At that, Agnes opened the small chest on the table. Inside was a single-edged golden dagger with a ruby placed on its hilt. The handle as well as the triangular blade was carved with inscriptions that Mia couldn't recognize.

However, that wasn't the only thing inside the chest. There was also a small glass container with a golden rim. It looked almost like a goblet, except that it had a removable lid.

Agnes lifted that lid now, setting it on the table beside the goblet.

"Well, then." Lucille snapped her fingers, and instantly the room seemed to have constricted. Mia and Christie was still sitting across her, but the space between them had decreased considerably. "Mia, give me the hand you've used to pledge."

Mia extended her pale, shaking hand to Lucille, who took her by the wrist with surprising strength. That, or Mia was just too weak. The sight of the blade intimidated her. Maybe she already figured out what was about to go down.

As though to prove that, Lucille lifted the dagger and slowly cut a vertical line along Mia's forearm.

Mia gasped at the pain. The cut wasn't deep, but the sharpness of the knife elicited a healthy flow of blood. It rose from her skin like an overflowing river. Before the thick crimson liquid could drip onto the table, Lucille tipped her arm and angled the flow inside the goblet.

Drip, drip, drip. Blood continued to flow until it filled about three quarters of the container.

Once it reached a satisfactory level, Lucille released Mia and replaced the lid of the goblet. Then, she ran her finger along the cut on her arm, instantly leaving a fresh scar in its wake.

"There you go," she finished with a smile as Agnes put everything back inside the box. "I have taken two years of your life."

Mia's chin trembled. "Two years?"

"Yes," Lucille said nonchalantly. "I have taken five years from your grandma and she's still alive and kicking, so you need not worry. By the way, for this to work, I will have to contact you every now and then. You have learned a lot about Parachute Publishing."

Agnes cleared her throat. "It's Paradigm Publishing."

"I am no good at remembering lame names." Lucille waved it off. "I prefer parachute. Much more exciting. It makes me think of tying Mr. Linden in a parachute that won't open." She paused thoughtfully. "Does he do extreme sports?"

Mia shook her head. "He just loves going to the gym."

Lucille shuddered. "Ugh, could he be any duller?"

"If he's into teenagers, he could be much duller," Agnes said. Then she turned to Mia apologetically. "No offense."

"Don't take offense because it's true," Lucille said airily. "Anyway, as I was saying, this mission will require your regular appearance. Would you be up for that?"

"Of course," Mia answered. "I'll do anything you ask."

"Good." She picked up the chest and placed it on the waiting hands of Agnes, who immediately excused herself upon receiving it. Then, smiling, she reached over and patted Mia on the cheek. "Don't worry, dear. We will get him. Infiltrating his office might be the tricky part, but I think—"

"It won't be tricky," Mia interjected. Her eyes were alight with dark malice, some kind of a hunger. "I heard that they're expanding."

"Expanding? Are they trying out less boring activities this time?"

"No, but they're hiring." Mia was at the edge of her seat. "He's looking for a marketing executive and an editor."

Lucille's heart jumped with excitement. God, it felt amazing to be back to deviousness, mischief, and good old tomfoolery.

"Is that so?" Lucille leaned against her chair. "Well, I think he wouldn't need to look any further."

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