Chapter 18 Arabella #2
“Something that should not be discussed or disturbed under any circumstances,” Dora says with finality.
“Remember the last time we used it?” Celeste wrings her hands, her cupcake earrings swinging wildly. “I still have nightmares.”
“The foxgloves.” Beth wraps her arms around herself.
“The squirrels.” Maisie shudders.
“It’s why we keep it here,” Mina reminds everyone. “The bookshop is one of the few places in Argleton that has magic literally flowing in the pipes. It will keep the blasted thing safe from the wrong sorts of people and us safe from it.”
“Fine.” Isis pouts. “I’m just saying that we have other tools at our disposal.”
“Let’s save that one for when we’re desperate,” Beth says quickly. “And we’re not desperate yet. So far, the killer seems to have gone into hibernation.”
“Besides, you’re magical, aren’t you, Isis?” Komal says gently. “We don’t need that when we have you.”
I roll my eyes. Isis is as magical as a cinder block.
Isis’s lip wobbles, but she shores up and breaks into a smile. “Exactly. If we need magic to help us, I can make that happen. But we’re not there yet.”
“Arabella, you keep leaning on Gideon, doing whatever you can to get more information from him,” Maisie says.
“Yeah, Arabella.” Komal nudges me. “You’ve got to dig deep, pump him for information, positively deep throat all his facts.”
“And see if you and Winnie can talk to some of the staff,” Mina adds, ignoring Komal’s nonsense.
“That’s not going to work. Everyone on the estate is an insufferable snob,” I sigh. “Present company included. They’ll be suspicious if a member of Sanctus starts asking them about their lives.”
“Good point.” Mina rubs her chin. “I know! Several of us are invited to the opening of Gideon’s Midnight Garden next week—”
“For our sins,” Winnie moans. “I’m drowning under broken sculptures and marble dust. Which reminds me. Celeste – Gideon’s secretary wants to talk to you about catering for the human guests.”
Celeste’s face goes white. “For the vampire party? Um… I don’t know, it’s short notice—”
“You once made a three-tier cake shaped like Jason Momoa in forty-five minutes for Mrs Ellis’s seventieth birthday,” Dora reminds her. “You’ve got this.”
“And Gideon will pay well,” Winnie smiles. “Arabella’s made sure of that.”
“It’s perfect!” Mina claps her hands. “Celeste is doing the food, Maisie is covering it for the paper, I’m there as Quoth’s guest, Winnie’s there with Alaric, and Arabella will be with her friends.
We’ll use the gala to talk to the staff and sniff out some secrets.
With so many of us, we’re bound to uncover something.
Arabella shouldn’t have to do all the work on this case. ”
I nod. “For once, we are in perfect agreement.”
As the others chime in with ideas and theories, Celeste slumps down in her seat, her face miserable. I recall that Celeste had gone to her mother’s house during Alaric’s ball. Is she deliberately avoiding being around my kin?
For the first time, I look at my friend in a new light. I know Celeste has secrets, and no one respects her right to privacy more than me. But does Celeste know something she’s not telling us?
I try to catch up with Celeste after the meeting, but she practically flees for the door before Mina has even finished wrapping up her plot summary of this week’s book.
“Thank you again, Arabella, O Magnificent One.” Maisie grins at me, but thankfully, she and her duck don’t try to hug me again. “I’ll see you at the auditions on Saturday.”
“We’ll see you there, too!” Isis waves as she drags a protesting Dora towards the door. “We’re going to practise now.”
“You’ll need all the practice you can get because I won’t be playing favourites.”
“Don’t worry. You will tremble before our talent and sheer audacity!”
“Exactly,” Dora mumbles. “Behold our brilliance and despair.”
Beth corners me as I help Winnie arrange the beanbags in colour-coded piles in the corner. “Maisie is so grateful for your help. I know you like to pretend you don’t care about people, but you’re a good friend, Arabella.”
“I’m not teaching a vampire pole class,” I growl.
“Why not?” she moans. “Don’t you want to dance again? You love it.”
I do love it.
But I’m never dancing again. It’s too dangerous. Especially with ghosts from my past like Paul Badica and Gideon Blake around.
“I don’t have to explain myself. I’m not doing it, and that’s my final answer.”
“It was worth a shot.” Beth waves. “See you!”
After we’ve straightened the events room to Winnie’s exacting standards, we say goodnight to Mina and the two of us walk up Butcher Street towards the Rose & Wimple, where Alaric is having a glass of blood with his Thrall, Reginald.
I’d parked my car in the pub parking lot, but when I step into the space, it’s gone.
“Someone stole my car!” Rage consumes me. How dare some punk touch my precious vehicle?
“Don’t panic.” Winnie pats my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”
“It’s not like I’ve misplaced a sweater. I parked it right here, and now it’s gone. When I find the person who did this, I’m going to lick off all their cartilage—”
Winnie rolls her eyes. “You vampires, always jumping straight to the stabbing and cartilage-licking. You gotta learn to chill. Why don’t we just go up to the pub and hang out—”
“I’m not ‘chill’. I don’t ‘hang out’. I swear unbreakable oaths. I eviscerate my enemies. I turn the blood of those who wrong me into delicious cocktails with tiny umbrellas made from their skin.”
Winnie holds up her hands. “Okay, okay, I got it. No chill whatsoever. We’ll call the police and make a report. Reginald can drive you home. I’m sure your car will turn up—”
A figure steps out of the shadows.
“Gideon?” I frown at him, suspicious. What’s he doing in the village, skulking around near the alleyway where Danny O’Hare was found dead?
He looks far too hot to be up to anything innocent in a pair of arse-hugging tailored trousers, a glittering Armani watch, and a cobalt silk shirt that matches his eyes rolled up to the elbows. “What are you doing here?”
“She means ‘hello’,” Winnie finishes.
“No, she doesn’t,” I snap.
“I’ve come to give you a ride back to Sanctus.” He grins. “It’s all part of our personal service for our members.”
“Well, you can personal service yourself out of my way. I brought my car.” As soon as I locate the bastard who stole it and feast on their liver.
“I know.” His grin widens. “And a very nice ride it is, too. I had Sinead drive it home for you.”
He what?
But how did she—
I dig in my wallet for my keys, but they’re still there. “You broke into my car?”
Behind me, Winnie makes a choking noise.
“Technically, Sinead broke into your car. I merely provided her with the means to do it.”
“You… you—”
“I’m as cunning as ten foxes in a trench coat, each with a degree in cunning from Cambridge University. You’re welcome. Shall we?” Gideon gestures to the Lamborghini looking completely out of place in the pub parking lot.
Is he on some kind of vampire drug? “Why would you imagine I’d want to get in a car with you after you’ve shown me that you have no respect for my property or agency?”
“Because I have an angelic face.” He opens the passenger door. “And I have a surprise for you.”
“If it’s anything like the last surprise, I’ll pass.”
Winnie looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “I’ll just… leave you to deal with this, Arabella. And don’t forget your special job for the book club.”
Oh, right. In the throes of discovering Gideon stole my car, I forgot that I’m supposed to find out more about Thralls at Sanctus.
My only other option for getting home is to take a taxi. Arabella Lestrange does not ride in taxis. And I haven’t yet mastered the vampiric skill of turning into hundreds of bats when annoyed.
Think of your revenge. Think of how delightful it will be to watch Gideon’s face collapse as he realises you’ve taken Sanctus from him.
I swallow back my annoyance and smile like I’ve already won. “Drive me back to Sanctus. But if you so much as breathe in my direction, I’m crunching your kneecaps like potato chips.”
Wrath collects in the corners of his eyes. “I learned my lesson at the pole dance studio. Trust me, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” Gideon gestures to the open door. “Your chariot awaits.”
I slide into the luxurious leather seat. I want to find something to complain about but, honestly, the car is gorgeous. I’d been considering one before I bought my Alfa Romeo, but I didn’t want to drive something conspicuous when I’m trying to lie low in Argleton.
Not that it did me any good. I need to deal with Paul Badica before he opens his big mouth and spoils everything I’ve built for myself.
I sink down in the seat, enjoying the way the leather hugs my body. Gideon slides into the driver’s seat, plants his foot on the gas, and the car leaps away.
I must admit, I love the low rumble of the engine and the way it grips the road as we tear out of the village and into the farmland, heading the long way towards Sanctus’ western gates.
Gideon handles the winding country roads with ease.
He oozes Bond villain energy as he allows the car to joyfully do what it does best – fly around corners and make my heart pound like my human friends’ at a Black Friday book sale.
I pretend not to notice him glancing over at me every few seconds, or the way I keep having to tear my eyes away from the veins along his forearms.
As we careen down an avenue of ancient oaks, Gideon slows to a stop and pulls over on the side of the road.
“Do you want to drive?”
His wicked grin makes warmth pool in my chest.
“You’d let me behind the wheel?”
“I see the way you’re biting your lip. You can hardly contain yourself. If Arabella Lestrange wants to tame this beast, then she’s welcome to try.” He pauses. “Just don’t go too fast. This thing has a hair-trigger accelerator and it can run away with you—”