He's Under My Spell

Quickly, Priscilla hid her magic supplies and hurried back to the mansion. Answers. She had to find answers. If her suspicions were true, Elvis might become a major obstacle in her plans.

As Priscilla neared the main hall, a commotion drew her attention. Curiosity piqued, she approached a nearby maid. "What's happening?" she asked.

The maid's face was pale. "There's been a murder! A man was found dead in his house, brutally killed. Beheaded."

Another voice chimed in, adding to the unsettling news. "They're saying it's not clear if he was murdered or committed suicide. The weapon they found, a knife, was clutched in his own hand.

"They say he deserved it," another maid chimed in. "That man was a monster. Always preying on the weak."

Priscilla listened intently, her ears perked for any information that might be useful. "They say he had a long criminal record," a gruff voice cut through the murmurs. "But the general at the precinct was his godfather. Nothing ever stuck to him."

The commotion grew louder, each person in the mansion adding their own commentary to the unfolding events.

"Good riddance," someone muttered. "He was a menace to this town."

"Poor child," another maid sighed. "I heard she was severely traumatized. Found her wandering the streets, crying hysterically."

"They say she confessed," a voice hissed. "Said he… he did terrible things to her."

Priscilla felt a surge of cold satisfaction. Tomas's crimes were finally coming to light. The girl, the innocent victim, had found a measure of justice.

"She wasn't even his daughter," someone whispered. "Just an orphan he took in when she was a child."

Priscilla's gaze hardened. Tomas's cruelty knew no bounds. He had not only terrorized the town but had also inflicted unimaginable suffering on an innocent child.

The news of Tomas's death, and the revelation of his heinous crimes, cast a pall over the mansion. Yet, amidst the whispers and murmurs, a strange sense of relief seemed to permeate the air. Justice, however swift and brutal, had been served.

With all of what Priscilla heard, the guilt she felt vanished. Tomas deserved that death. She was not only helping that little girl but a lot of people who were victims of Tomas.

All the loud conversations came to a sudden halt when Elvis suddenly went downstairs. Priscilla, realizing she had forgotten the most crucial part of her mission – to gather information about the governor and his family – panicked. She was supposed to ask some maids about the background of the Elvis family, but the commotion had completely derailed her.

Elvis spoke, his voice resonant through the hall. "Laura, come here."

Priscilla looked at Betty, her eyes wide with a silent plea for help. Betty, however, simply nodded, as if acknowledging Priscilla's duty.

With no other choice, Priscilla quickly went to Elvis, her heart pounding. "Yes, sir?" she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Elvis, seemingly unaware of the tension that had gripped the mansion moments before, said, "I have an urgent errand to run in the neighboring town. I require assistance. Are you willing to accompany me?"

Priscilla, caught off guard, could only stammer, "Yes, sir."

This unexpected turn of events presented a new challenge. How could she gather information about the governor and his family while assisting Elvis on this errand? Her mission, already fraught with danger, had just taken a more unpredictable turn.

Elvis brought his cane forward, tapping the ground lightly. He then adjusted his shades and started to walk, each step deliberate and sure. Priscilla followed close behind, her eyes darting around, trying to assess the situation.

A white van stopped in front of them, the engine idling smoothly. A man stepped out, his face expressionless. "Master Elvis," he greeted, opening the passenger door.

Elvis, without hesitation, stepped inside. Priscilla, following his lead, moved towards the front seat.

"Wait," Elvis said, his voice firm. "Sit here." He gestured to the seat beside him.

Priscilla was taken aback. "But sir… I… I should sit in front." She stammered, her mind reeling. Servants did not sit beside their masters. It was improper, unthinkable.

"Who is your master?" Elvis's voice held a hint of amusement. "The people or me? Come, sit here. I might hit my head on the roof."

Priscilla was momentarily speechless. He sounded almost… petulant. Like a child throwing a tantrum. She thought he was overreacting, that he was acting like a spoiled brat. But arguing with him would be futile, and she didn't want to give him any reason to suspect her ulterior motives.

With a resigned sigh, Priscilla climbed into the van and sat beside him.

As the van glided smoothly down the road, Priscilla's mind raced. What was Elvis's true nature? What was he planning? She couldn't read his mind, couldn't decipher the emotions behind his carefully crafted facade.

Lost in her thoughts, Priscilla didn't notice the sudden silence in the van. Then, a voice, clear and distinct, echoed in her mind. "Priscilla."

She startled, her eyes widening. "Luminous?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What happened? Why are you contacting me in my mind?"

"Emergency," Luminous replied, his voice urgent. "I've discovered something… something important."

Priscilla leaned forward, her senses heightened. "What is it?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on Elvis, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, unaware of the silent conversation taking place within her mind.