Page 33 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

“Certainly not, madam. I’m happy to be your transport and keep you safe whether waking or sleeping.”

“I must trust you implicitly if I turn over operation of the vehicle to youandgo to sleep.” I wondered what Keir would say about that if he knew.

“Yes, Madam.”

I hadn’t quite completed my climb out of the car when I saw John David’s massive door open. He came out onto the drive with a big smile.

“Welcome, Magistrate.”

“Rita, please.”

He laughed. “I know you prefer Rita. I just like teasing you.”

“Hmmm. Well, here I am. The last person in England you should turn to for advice on party planning.”

John David’s responding chuckle sent chills from neck to nipples. It was so easy to forget he was a vampire that I often did. Then a gesture or expression would remind me that he wasn’t just a rich and worldly gentleman farmer.

“You seem extra happy.” I ventured.

“Yes, well, thanks to you, life has taken a turn for the better. I rather like being part of a community.”

“People look forward to your epic parties with a special kind of excitement. So, what the heck am I doing here? You’ve already achieved greatness.”

He laughed more openly. “A year ago, I would have thought the idea of hosting big parties was ludicrous. The first and only question being, ‘Who would come?’”

“And the answer isall your friends and neighbors.”

“Friends and neighbors,” he repeated, seeming to savor its taste with a wistfulness revealing just how much these events meant to him.

He came back to himself quickly and motioned for the entrance. “Come in.”

I passed the butler, Jarvis, who was holding the door, eyes down and head bent slightly forward. I still thought John David gave him that name just to be funny.

“Hello, Jarvis,” I said cordially.

“Good afternoon, madam,” he replied in a way that suggested he was ready to be dean of butler school.

I leaned toward the butler in conspiratorial fashion and said, “Come on. Tell me the truth. What’s your real name? I promise not to tell another soul.”

“Jarvis is an old family surname madam. One of which I am extremely proud.”

“Of course,” I said, sobering instantly. “As you should be!”

With a small shake of his head and a boyish smile, John David said, “This way.”

I followed him to the solarium. He stepped out of the way just as we reached the door so I could enter first. Someone had gone to some trouble to present a magazine-ready tea.

“See?” I said accusingly. “How could I top that?” I waved at the tea service. “I’ll gladly consume your delicious goodies, have a sip, then be on my way confident that you do not need advice from me.”

“You know,” he said, “modesty can be overdone.”

“Truth-telling cannot,” I fired back.

Again, the chill-inducing chuckle.

“John David, when you laugh like, that it makes my fight or flight response kick into high gear.”

He cocked his head. “Really? I thought I sensed…” He paused. “Should I not laugh like that anymore? That’s a serious request, because I admit that I get a little charge of exhilaration when you react to my, ah, laugh.”

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