Harold set the ladder against the house and climbed up. To be fair, pulling the ivy away from the tower windows was something he could have easily set Devious doing, but with all three of his daughters visiting on a Sunday afternoon he wanted an excuse to get out of the house. Julie would entertain them.
He looked down at the owner of the shill voice. It was Violent, Adantia’s youngest girl. He dropped the piece of ivy he was holding, appreciating the deft little dance Violent made to avoid being hit.
Harold paused and looked at his grand-daughter, remembering a time when he was that age. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Your Aunt