Page 32 of How to Stake a Vampire
My pulse quickened. “What kind of strange things?”
“He told me my bloodline showed promise,” the vampire replied uneasily. “That I was contributing to something greater.”
Baron Beaumont cleared his throat. “I recall similar words. He said he was creating something special.” He hesitated. “That Amberford would soon witness the birth of a new age of vampire supremacy.”
The hairs rose on the back of my neck. Barney went very still.
The vampires had little else to add, so we left them in the care of Joyce and her coworkers and drove back to Hawthorne & Associates in grim silence. My phone pinged with an incoming message when we were halfway across town. I frowned when I read it.
“Samuel wants to see us when we get back.”
“Now what?” Didi muttered.
11
A GRAVE SITUATION
Samuel was waitingfor us in the foyer of the building.
One look at his expression told me we were in for more unwelcome news.
“Lord Chudwell was found dead at his estate this morning,” he said without preamble. “Gregory called. The coroner just informed him.”
Didi gasped. Gavin squeaked. Bo’s ears flattened.
Barney froze. “Giles is dead? That’s impossible!”
“Who’s Lord Chudwell?” I asked nervously.
“He’s from one of the purest bloodlines in New England,” the vampire replied. His voice carried a note I hadn’t heard before. “His family tree goes back to the original vampire settlers.”
My wolf stirred uneasily. Our case had just taken a dark undertone none of us had been expecting.
“Was it another attack?” I asked in the fraught hush.
“It appears so.” Samuel’s jaw tightened, his emotions making my wolf fidget as they filtered through the mate bond. “Though this one went considerably worse for the victim.”
“He was probably targeted because of his bloodline, right?” Didi said quietly.
Though he wasn’t showing it, it was clear the news had upset Barney.
Samuel rubbed the back of his neck. “The coroner suspects his death was an accident. She’s still at the scene. I want you to get over there before the Vampire Council descends and turns this whole thing into a political circus.”
I stared. “There’s a Vampire Council?”
This was news to me. Then again, I’d only been a werewolf for one hot second.
“There are many councils in Amberford,” my alpha admitted reluctantly.
“Think of them as the equivalent of a homeowners association,” Didi said with distaste. “Lots of rules, endless meetings, and an unhealthy obsession with property values.”
Winter clouds had darkened the heavens by the time we got to Temple Heights. The Chudwell estate loomed under the overcast sky at the end of a long tree-lined driveway.
The place had the signature Amberford look, ergo it looked like it had been designed by someone from the Middle Ages who had severe commitment issues. The main house was an architectural fever dream of towers and turrets that reminded me faintly of Château Montmartre. Except for the gargoyles. Those guys were perched on every available surface and wore expressions of perpetual indigestion.
“Someone had money to burn,” I observed tactfully as we pulled up a circular drive.
“And highly questionable taste.” Didi stared at a particularly hideous gargoyle that appeared to be picking its nose.
