Chapter Ninety-Four
Reality can be so deceiving.
Aunt Jane was a dazzling angel from the outside who knew what we thought about her. Shockingly, she wasn’t afraid to say it directly to our faces.
“Uh, I, uh,” I stuttered. Words jumbled in my mind. I couldn’t get over the fact that my father’s murderer was directly addressing me.
Jane’s sparkling, smiling eyes made me wildly uncomfortable. How could I be rude or express open hatred toward such an affable face?
“I can see how you all feel about me in your eyes,” said Jane with an awkward yet sweet, closed-mouth smile. “Please come inside so we can talk about this over tea. My husband will be so delighted to meet you all.”
“Sure. Thanks,” said Derrick.
I would have given him a side glare if I could stop staring at Aunt Jane. My brother’s reply had put a beaming smile on her face. Her demeanor was not anywhere close to the sick-minded killer Mom believed her to be.
We were in Jane Astor’s territory. She could break our necks using her supernatural forces and make it look like an accident. Then why was she being so sweet to us? What was I missing?
To find an answer, we followed our aunt to another room. The interior of the mansion was more grand and impressive than the exterior. Wealth and elegance were evident in everything, including furniture, paintings, rugs, and ornaments. The Astors were living an extremely comfortable life. They must be bored out of their minds to target others with black magic.
In the great hall, an old man in his seventies with a well-maintained white beard and fade haircut was sitting on a giant brown sofa. Judging from how quickly he rose from his seat and his face lit up, he was surely Mr. Astor.
“Well, hello there! Our beloved guests have finally arrived,” Benedict Astor started with a slight bow. He was unusually tall and dressed in Victorian attire. However, his face was a blur to me as the great hall was four times the size of their foyer.
“Come,” Jane Astor signaled us to take a seat.
Before complying with our host’s request, I turned to my siblings. Derrick appeared relaxed, whereas Mia had beads of sweat on her forehead. There wasn’t any possibility of having a private word with them, so I moved forward with them.
We sat on an expensive leather sofa set in front of Mr. Astor. Though he looked even older up close, he had strong facial features and big brown eyes that held decades of wisdom and secrets of the world.
Unlike Aunt Jane, he looked less friendly. To put it into better words, he had the look of someone who would be nice to your face and then murder you in your sleep.
“Well, well. What do we owe the pleasure of having John Black’s children visiting us in Voocrod?” Benedict Astor said.
“We know you have always had a strained relationship with our late father. He always said our family needs to stay away from the Astors. We weren’t aware of how bad it was until Mom revealed he didn’t want Aunt Jane to come to his funeral,” replied Derrick. I was grateful to my brother for taking the lead because I couldn’t dare to say anything to that man.
“You certainly talk like your father,” Mr. Astor commented.
“Pardon me. I didn’t mean to insult you. I aimed only to let you know we are aware of why you are shocked to see us here,” said Derrick.
Benedict Astor’s gaze intensified. “Noted. Please proceed.”
Derrick’s confidence surprisingly didn’t waver under the Satanist’s menacing stare. “Since Dad is no longer in this world… Is this the first time you have heard about his demise? My apologies for asking because you don’t seem shocked by it,” said Derrick.
Was that even a valid question? Of course, they knew. The murderers are the first ones to know!
“Your mother wrote a letter to me after my brother’s death,” Aunt Jane began. “The ink was ruined with tears. It was full of hate and profanities. She blamed me and my husband for using Satan’s power to kill him. She then mocked me by stating that she would never let me anywhere near John’s body.” Her eyes glistened with tears, and it wasn’t long before she began sobbing. They had to be crocodile tears. She must have mastered theatrics to cry on the spot like that. Her tears appeared genuine and a lot, too, for an amateur.
“Now don’t cry, darling,” said Mr. Astor to her. “Their parents may have spent a lifetime accusing us of baseless crimes. These kids, however, are new minds. They know better than to believe in bullshit, such as demons and Satan’s magic. Nothing of that exists in the modern world. In the past, it may have been a weapon for con artists to swindle naive religious people.”
“Did your parents say we hired someone to pull the plug on your father in the hospital when you refused to believe in their crappy reason?” Benedict directly asked us three.
Boy, was he clever! He planned to shut our mouths by indirectly calling our parents ignorant fools to believe in witchcraft. Luckily, we were intelligent enough not to share our beliefs with them.
“Yes, they did,” said Derrick.
“What?!” I exclaimed. Why was my brother trying to make our parents sound like lunatics?
“They truly believe you are after our family, be it witchcraft or anything else,” Derrick continued, ignoring my reaction. “That’s why we came in the hope of developing a relationship with you two. Perhaps we can learn where all the hate started from your perspective. It’s fine if you don’t want anything to do with our family anymore.”
“Well, of course,” said Aunt Jane, wiping her tears. “Be our guests for as long as you want. I insist you spend the night here. I don’t mind having you three here for a week, month, or year. It feels good to have someone from my family reach out to me. John had poisoned the minds of everyone, including our parents.”
“If you want to hear our perspective, I hope you are prepared to listen with an open mind,” Benedict stated.
“Yes, we are. First, you must give us a tour of every room of this mansion. Mom believes one room is filled with satanic objects,” I blurted out like an idiot.
The Astors looked at me as if I had asked them to cut out their hearts. Something horrible was about to happen next because of my one emotional mistake.