Chapter 12 Vampire Consultation
VAMPIRE CONSULTATION
“Are we there yet?” Bo asked for the tenth time.
Samuel’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “No.”
There was a pause that last exactly twelve seconds.
“How about now?” the Husky asked.
“Still no.”
I shot my dog a warning look in the rearview mirror. He was wedged between Didi and Gavin in the back seat of the Bentley, his tongue lolling happily despite the cramped conditions.
“This car smells like wet dog,” Didi observed sourly.
“I prefer eau de canine,” Bo huffed.
“It’s the same thing.”
“But fancier,” Bo countered.
Samuel ground his teeth.
“I’ll get the car cleaned,” I said hastily. “I promise.”
Gavin’s horns were starting to smoke. The dragon newt had been twitchy ever since we’d picked him and Didi up from Hawthorne & Associates.
Something about visiting vampire territory made him nervous.
According to Didi, vampires and dragon newts had a complicated history involving an unfortunate turf war in the 1920s.
Didi eyed Gavin darkly. “Could you stop doing that?” She waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re setting off my allergies.”
“Sorry.” The dragon newt’s nostrils flared as he tried to control the sparks. “I can’t help it. Vampires make me stressed.” He shot a skittish look out of the window.
“Barney’s not going to bite you,” I reassured.
“That’s what they all say. Right before they bite you.”
“You work with the guy,” Samuel said leadenly.
Gavin still looked unconvinced.
“If worse comes to worst, you can flambé him,” Didi said irritably. “Vampires are highly flammable. I mean, it’s unlikely you’ll kill someone of Barney’s rank, but you could do some serious damage.” A disturbing cackle left the witch.
I reminded myself never to get on her bad side.
Bo’s ears perked. “When you say flambé, you mean like a Crêpes Suzombie, except minus the zombie?”
We all stared at him.
“Pearl and I were watching Crypt Kitchen the other day,” Bo revealed with unabated enthusiasm. “That French guy made it look really dramatic.”
“Too much TV will rot your brain,” Samuel warned.
Didi made a face. “I think that ship already sailed.”
Samuel turned onto a familiar tree-lined street in Amberford’s historic district. We drove past large Victorian houses that sat behind immaculate gardens with lawns so perfectly manicured they looked like a crew of gardeners had trimmed each blade of grass with nail scissors.
Considering my growing knowledge of vampires and their household staff, I wouldn’t put this past them.
Bo leaned across Gavin and pressed his nose against the window. “I thought this the last time we came here, but I bet these people have really good garbage.”
“Please don’t raid anyone’s trash cans,” Samuel said tiredly.
“I make no promises,” the Husky huffed, misting up the glass.
Samuel looked at me.
“You knew you were getting the whole package when you asked me to move in with you,” I pointed out.
Didi smirked in the backseat.
Barney’s mansion came into view. Painted a tasteful burgundy and cream, the three-story Victorian property sprawled across a generous plot, complete with wings and annexes that seemed to have sprouted over the decades like architectural mushrooms.
“The vamp’s got nice digs,” Didi grunted.
“Do me a favor,” Samuel muttered. “Don’t call him the vamp when we get in there.”
We pulled up next to a refrigerated van marked with the logo of Eternal Reserves, Amberford’s premier blood bank. A ghoul was wheeling crates toward the service entrance.
“Looks like somebody’s restocking their pantry,” Didi observed.
Gavin’s nostrils sparked alarmingly.
Samuel killed the engine. We climbed out of the Bentley and maintained a careful distance from the dragon newt.
A cobblestone pathway led us to a wraparound porch with intricate spindle work. The brass door knocker was shaped like a bat.
It had googly eyes on it.
“I thought you guys were joking about the googly eyes,” Didi muttered.
“I wish I had been,” Samuel said in a long-suffering voice.
The door swung open before anyone could knock. Barney appeared in his usual immaculate attire despite it being his day off. His expression shifted from polite welcome to resigned annoyance when he spotted the door knocker.
He peeled off the googly eyes and pocketed them without a word.
“Samuel. Abigail.” His gaze swept over our companions. “I see you brought the whole crew.” He paused. “Why is Gavin smoking?”
“He’s having a moment of existential dread,” I said.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Didi told Barney. “Classic vampire chic. Very brooding.”
Barney sighed. “Please, come in.”
The interior of the vampire’s home was exactly as I recalled—dark wood, expensive furnishings, and items that predated most of the people I knew. Bo’s nose went into overdrive the moment we crossed the threshold.
“I smell cookies,” he announced, tail wagging excitedly.
“Melvina has been stress-baking,” Barney admitted. “There was an incident with a soufflé.”
An anguished wail echoed from somewhere in the depths of the house.
Gavin’s horns popped out fully.
“That would be her now,” Barney said without batting an eye. “She’s been experimenting with French pastry. It’s not going well.”
Melvina burst into view, her braided beard quivering with emotion. Her nose was dusted with flour, her battleaxe was strapped to her back, and she was wearing her usual vampire-themed apron. This one featured a vampire running away from a clove of garlic with an axe.
“Master, the meringues collapsed,” she blubbered, brandishing a baking tray of sad, deflated blobs. “Again!”
Barney observed the meringue corpses with an expression that said he had weathered many baking catastrophes. “Sometimes, life gives you lemons.”
“You mean meringues,” Didi contributed with an unhelpful smirk.
Melvina’s face transformed when she spotted us.
“Oh.” She abandoned the meringue tray on a side table and rushed over to pump our hands enthusiastically.
“I made a fresh batch of cookies to celebrate your visit. Werewolf-shaped ones this time.” Her face fell slightly.
“The heads fell off again, but they taste delicious, I promise.”
“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Samuel said diplomatically while I tried not to wince.
The dwarf’s grip would have crushed my bones had I been human.
“Are they peanut butter?” Bo wagged his tail so fast it blurred. “I like those.”
Melvina beamed. “Yes, they are. I made extra-large ones for you.” She scuttled back toward the kitchen.
Harold the butler materialized. “Ah, I see your guests have arrived, Master. Wonderful. I shall fetch the tea.” He glided away just as silently as he’d appeared. His sharp voice came in the distance. “Melvina, lose the axe.”
We followed Barney down a hallway lined with oil paintings worth more than my annual salary to a comfortable sitting room. Bay windows overlooked manicured gardens and a fire crackled in the marble fireplace.
Harold reappeared with tea service and a plate of headless werewolf cookies. Bo eyed the treats with unblinking focus.
Samuel waited until the butler left before getting straight to business.
“We need to ask you about some old Amberford history,” he told Barney. “Specifically, two witch families. The Marchefords and the Thornwicks.”
Barney frowned faintly. “That’s not a period I particularly enjoy discussing.”
“We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” I said. “The Lincoln sisters are missing.”
“We think it might be connected,” Didi added.
Barney’s expression grew shuttered. “This has to do with your compliance investigation?”
Didi nodded, her face tight. She had searched her coven archives for details of the incident involving the Marchefords and the Thornwicks after I’d called her and had found nothing.
It seemed the Amberford covens had decided to bury that particular chapter of their history forever.
Barney set down his teacup with deliberate care.
“I guess I have no choice since this concerns a Hawthorne & Associates case. Can you tell me what you’ve found so far?”
We gave him a rundown of what we’d unearthed in the last few days. I related what I’d learned that morning from Mrs. Chen about the forbidden magic the two families had attempted to use, the failed coup, and the subsequent exile.
Barney listened without interrupting, his face giving nothing away.
“Your neighbor has a good memory,” he said finally. “But she’s left out some details.”