Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to enjoy killing in order to serve Master. I dislike killing. Even my family, which was an act of mercy, really, still haunts my dreams. When I find myself in a position where killing is necessary, I do it quickly, with little fanfare. Best to get it over with. I don't stand around and gloat about it and revel in it-- that would be most inefficient.
Unfortunately, sometimes even the option of a quick kill is, for one reason or another, undesirable. This is why, for the first time, I actually find myself grateful that I've got those two morons with me. Yes, Revenants are delusional imbeciles, but at least they enjoy their work. And have I got a job for them.
Emily's parents will die.
She will come home, and she will find their corpses propped up in the dining room. She will find their stomachs cut out and placed on the plates. She will find their own ribs in their hands in a macabre imitation of dining utensils. She will find their blood used as paint to leave Master's mark upon the walls, so that there can be no doubt in her mind about who did this.
I want her shaking uncontrollably. I want her in the depths of despair, dancing on the brink of madness. My deadline for information about the Compulsion is fast approaching, and if this doesn't get her to reveal any information, then I don't know what will.