Mithias turned from the window and faced the others. He was looking downward, clearly searching his mind for answers. "That enemy of hers perhaps, Mitchell. Although I can't be certain." It was rather irrational that an enemy of Viorica's would dump several fledglings at her door only to kidnap or attack her in her own castle. It was, unless perhaps in being their sire, he could see through their eyes. That would give a powrful vampire a lot of information. 

Mithias walked over to the dress on the floor. "That would be the least of her worries, Angel." Mithias said, surprising the fledgling that he would talk to her. His bright, golden-yellow eyes leveling with hers as he bent down, looking directly at her. Something about his gaze targted her, making her feel guilty... suspicious. Mithias dropped his gaze as his white, clawed hand picked up the dress, tumbling a paper note form their folds. "And yes we must help her, Evelyn." The note did not escape his notice. "And what is this? ... Castle Bran." He looked at the others for more information.

Just then a scream or moan of agony echoed through the halls. Mithias' hearing zoomed in on it, picking out the exact room it was coming from, the tone of a child's voice. "Damn it to hell." He said flatly.