Page 26 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
“René?”
He was busy making friends with the dog. “Yes?”
“I don’t think we’re alone in the house.”
The Frenchman fell immediately still, turned his head toward the door, and rose silently, his fangs already down.
“The back door.” He kept his voice barely audible. “Villains?”
“I don’t know.”
They tiptoed past the gun safe and through the room, which was scattered with boots and gardening equipment, hunting gear, walking sticks, and stacks of old clay pigeons they nearly tripped over. René nearly fell when his shoelace caught on a ski poking out from a rack on the wall.
“Why don’t they have a bigger mudroom in a house this large?” René complained.
“And take away from the library?” Beatrice managed to make it through the maze and opened the hallway door, which thankfully swung on silent hinges.
The back door to the open courtyard—the one that led to the servants’ hallway where the kitchen, the pantry, the mudroom, and the butler’s pantry branched off—was open a crack, no doubt the circumstance that had allowed the friendly hound entry to the main house.
Beatrice took off her jacket, hung it on a hook by the door, and unsheathed a slightly curved dagger. As she turned, she saw that René already had his own blade drawn.
“Security?” Beatrice whispered.
“One can never be too careful about personal safety.” He nodded at the kitchen.
Beatrice heard footsteps behind the door.
René said, “That room first.”
“The housekeeper?”
René shook his head. “Smells like a man.”
She took a deep breath. “Smells like—”
The door swung open and Nick appeared, a mug of tea in his hand and his eyes wide at the sight of two book authentication experts holding foot-long blades.
Nick blinked. “Oh dear.”
“Someone is in the house.” Beatrice willed her fangs to retract.
“Well, of course they are.” Nick frowned. “Why do you have knives out? Elise and I are staying here tonight, and Mrs. Dawson and Barnes and the stable master—you haven’t met him, but his name is—”
“My lord, I do believe these people are not of your household.” René bent and picked up a broken lockpick by the open back door. “You have… intruders.”
“Oh dear.” He looked at Beatrice. “I suppose I should have been more serious about getting a security system in place.”
René was staring at the lockpick, his eyes narrowed on the slim piece of metal.
And just like with Elise, she knew.
Beatrice grabbed Nick by the arm and captured René’s right ear in a vicious pinch.
“Ow! Mon Dieu, what are you doing?” René hissed.
Nick whispered, “Shouldn’t we—?”
“Later.”
