Mona
Peter
Freddy
SusanThe farm had previously belonged to a family member of Peter's. The Bloodforged were not the first to use it for the purposes of their cult, and so the barn had not been in proper use for many generations. The others had never really cared to ask where the rest of Peter's family was now: they were well aware that though they were following in the footsteps of the cult that came before them, neither the members nor any of the other cults expected them to be affiliated. The Striga cult had been out of business for many years when the Bloodforged cult was founded. Their only real connection was the house, and Peter's family name.
The farm suited them well enough. With the exception of Susan, few of them were still in contact with their families and it was nice to have a place to stay– and even Susan had a strained relationship with her mother after her decision not to join the family cult. The whereabouts of Peter's family was, as mentioned, still a mystery. Freddy had faked his own death a year or so before he attended university, and everyone was quite certain that Mona had killed her parents long before they had been discovered dead after her leaving home for good. Mona still maintained that it was perfectly normal for two people, who loved each other very much, to have simultaneous aneurysms.
So the barn had been repurposed into a makeshift laboratory for Mona, while Peter and Susan both claimed an extra room in the farmhouse as their studies. Freddy, having no particular goals in life that would require studies or laboratories, spent most of his time playing video games in the living room and had graciously accepted his role as the resident cook. On average days, like today, they spent most of their time apart with their separate projects until the smell of food began to trickle in.
Mona was having the kind of day where she would much rather have never left the bedroom. Draped over an uncomfortable wooden chair in her laboratory, she wrapped herself in a blanket and stared at the computer screen before her. She'd tried every possible combination. Every trick, every tiny experiment, with the exception of one thing. Well, probably more things– but she was feeling uninspired and grumpy, and the world was a little bit bleaker than usual, and so her usual enthusiasm for her project was overshadowed by momentary defeatism.
The one thing was electricity. That was what she was missing. It would seem obvious, perhaps, to the untrained eye. Even Doctor "Didn't Even Finish His Bachelor's Degree" Frankenstein had been able to think that far ahead, if the movies were to be believed. What the good doctor lacked, however, was finesse. The project would require large quantities of electricity that one couldn't derive without calling attention to oneself– if one were to steal it from the nearby town, for example. Similarly, though a lightning strike was aesthetically pleasing it was volatile and uncertain. Mona liked being certain; careful. The source would have to have a personal touch that would allow her to control intensity flawlessly– but also had to be powerful enough that she wouldn't drain the source prematurely.
In other words, she needed a person, with a power. Switching off the computer and leaning back into the chair, Mona gazed at her warped reflection in the blackness of the screen and wondered– where could she possibly find such a person?