Chapter 16: ""...managed to kill...""

Back on the road in the direction of the Heartsong Mansion and its training grounds, Matt and Lauren ate and drank their coffee in silence for a bit.

Finally, after thoroughly thinking it through, Lauren decided to give Matt her honest opinion. “I think you should talk to your Uncle Brock about all this.” Lauren said calmly.

Matt was a little surprised by Lauren’s suggestion, so he glanced at her for a moment. Lauren’s expression showed just how serious she was, so he knew Lauren wasn’t just making some off hand comment. His eyes back on the road, Matt frowned as he thought about it.

They drove up the last incline to the plateau at the base of the Volcano. The Heartsong Mansion, training grounds, and the massive multi-level parking garage next to the training grounds, were built on the plateau. Matt reached his decision as they drove up.

“I’ll talk to him, but…” Matt trailed off hesitantly.

“But?” Lauren asked, looking at him inquiringly.

“I want you to try and find someone you can talk to as well.” Matt told Lauren.

Lauren was silent for the rest of the drive, thinking. They had driven into the bottom level of the Heartsong’s Multi-level Parking garage when Lauren answered Matt.

“Okay…I’ll try and find someone I can talk to about this.” Lauren said softly, agreeing with Matt.

Matt parked the car, turning it off he looked at Lauren. Matt could see that Lauren meant what she said, she wasn’t just brushing him off. With a small smile he nodded.

Matt nudged her shoulder, “Come on, let's go get some training in before we burst into tears like a couple of nursery aged pups.”

Lauren burst into laughter. “Okay.”

Both Matt and Lauren were feeling more light hearted now, than they had been since their spells had been broken.

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**The Office of the Head Coven Witch of the Black Magic Coven**

Rebecca was sitting in her office chair, a wide leather Oxford tufted high back executive chair on wheels. Rebecca loved the chair, it was one of the modern inventions she was grateful for, it even had a retractable leg rest.

Rebecca’s office was large and ornate, decorated with large heavy dark wood antiques. There were two wide bottom Oxford tufted chairs that sat in front of her long L-shaped desk.

On her desk were heavy ancient looking tomes that were hand written, with lots of tiny words, written in different styles of cursive no longer used since the 1900’s. Nowadays they call most of that old type of cursive calligraphy.

On Rebeca’s desk were papers from several era’s, some paper was actually oiled and rolled up hide, other a very special type of paper, made by ancient desert dwelling beings, out of type of plant.

Then there were the scrolls, scrolls that were made with silk, some with Xuan paper, some were parchments, and the really ancient ones made of bamboo slips. Rebecca drew the line when it came to stone tablets though.

Luckily for Rebecca, a previous Head of the Black Magic Coven, didn’t have any patients for the stone tablets either. They had all of those stone tablets transcribed into scrolls a little over a thousand years ago.

In front of Rebecca, was a modern day fountain pen with a calligraphy tip. The pen was refillable, and came with a black marble stand that held both the pen, and a black porcelain ink bottle.

Rebecca had been in the middle of writing in her report journal, that was the size of an ancient tome, when an older Warlock entered. Looking up, Rebecca capped her pen and placed it back into its holder. Leaning back in her chair, Rebecca looked up at the Warlock and gestured for him to sit.

The Warlock was Rebecca’s Uncle, her Uncle had run the Coven for her while she had been living in the Moon Mountain Pack. Before the Beta of the current Alpha found the evidence of her Black Magic use. It was at that time Rebecca’s true appearance could no longer be disguised.

Rebecca could no longer change her black hair back to the white blond she was born with, nor could she change her eye color from their dual rings of black, back to their adolescent dual rings of blue. Her nails had remained black.

Rebecca had never bothered disguising them, it was always assumed they had been painted their black color. Polishing them till they shined had reinforced that small illusion. Rebecca had always kept her nails perfectly shaped into sharp claws.

Her Uncle let out a heavy sigh. “Well, you may have managed to kill your youngest daughter this time.” Lamashtu Asura Dilitirio said.

Rebecca gave a derisive snort, “Should I care?” she asked scornfully.

Lamashtu chuckled at Rebecca's response. “I would never expect you to care about that mongrel, other than her use to you as a blood bank.” He said amusedly.

With an elbow on the armrest of her chair Rebecca tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek against her curled fingers. “As long as you have no misunderstandings of me.” she said in an apathetic tone.

Lamashtu chuckled again, loving his niece's satirical personality. “However, didn’t you want to breed her, so you would have new blood for your preservation potion?” He asked her, amusement still in his tone.

Rebecca let out a put upon sounding sigh. “Yes well, that was before she went and killed an Elder. Now…if she lives, my plans to breed here will continue. I’ll just have to make a contingency plan that’ll ensure a successful mating.”

“What about if she dies this time, what will you do then?” Lamashtu asked her.

“I’ll still need new blood, I would breed another myself if I could.” Rebeca paused to let out an aggrieved sigh. “I do have three other daughters, I could always breed them with a Werewolf.”

Lamashtu nodded, “This is true.”

Narrowing her eyes at her Uncle she asked. “Are you asking because you're worried about not having access to my preservation potion?” Rebecca’s tone was mild.

Lamashtu smiled devilishly. “You do know me well my dear niece.” He said in a drawl.

Lamashtu, unlike most Warlocks his age, was still handsome. His pale milk white skin was smooth and intact. No scent of rot came from him, his hip length black hair was still shiny and thick. He had all his teeth and they were straight and white.

Lamashtu was tall, seven foot three, with a lean body. A long slightly narrow face with sharp facial features. Many an Elder was jealous over how well preserved Lamashtu was. There was a cost for the Black Magic they performed, one their Dark God could not prevent.

“How are the preparations for the renewal spell night coming along?” Rebecca asked Lamashtu.

“They are coming along well.” He told Rebecca.

“Good…because we’ll be busy over the next couple of weeks, I’ll put off breeding that mongrel or my other daughters until after the orgy has passed.” Rebecca said, while looking down at her heavy schedule journal.

Grabbing her pen out, she jotted down a note for the week after the orgy. *‘Breed daughters and the Mutt.’*

“Are you not going to ask me about the specifics?” Lamashtu asked her.

Rebecca capped her pen again and put it back once more now that she had written her note to herself. Looking up at her Uncle, Rebecca gave him a disgruntled look at his question.

“I would not have put you in charge of the preparations, if I did not think you could make sure everything is as I expect it to be.” Rebecca said succinctly, then she tilted her head to the side again. With an apathetic look to her gaze, she asked in a bored tone “Are you doubting my decision?”

With a sly grin of mirth, Lamashtu responded, “Of course not my darling niece.” Then with flair, he stood up and with an exaggerated bow, said. “You are a very competent Queen of this illustrious Black Magic Coven.”

Rebecca frowned at her Uncle, if she had to describe him, she would say he was the embodiment of the word ‘Joker’. He laughed and smiled at nearly everything, even laughed while having sex.

How did she know that? Well there were the very public orgies, and even though Rebecca called him Uncle, that was only by marriage. They actually were not related by blood, so they have had more than one tryst together.

Rebecca’s aunt, sadly, wasn't as useful to her Uncle as her father had been to her mother, so she was eventually sacrificed. There was no need to keep someone who had been that useless.

Bettina hadn’t been Rebecca’s only lover, but she had been the most loyal. So much so, Rebecca had bonded them by blood. Rebecca looked at Lamashtu, not wanting to think about Bettina anymore, she instead thought about the last time she and Lamashtu had some fun together.

Lamashtu caught the look in Rebecca’s eyes, no longer apathetic, the black pools glittered with desire. Lamashtu hardened instantly, no matter how many times he’d taken his darling niece since her sixteenth birthday, it was never enough.

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