Page 42 of How to Stake a Vampire
Betsy, Quincy, and the cats were in the family section to the left of the stage. The housekeeper and the butler acknowledged us with stiff nods. The cats ignored us.
Gregory and Constantia greeted us politely when we took our seats beside them. Bo’s bow tie earned a brief stare.
The room was filling up with more mourners. I spotted several familiar faces from vampire high society, all of whom were making a great show of their grief while simultaneously checking out each other’s outfits.
The funeral director waited until everyone was seated before approaching the podium to begin the service.
“Dear friends, we are gathered here today to honor the memory of Lord Giles Pilkington Chudwell,” she began in a voicethat carried just a hint of her supernatural nature. “A vampire of distinguished lineage and impeccable taste.”
“The gargoyles on his estate would disagree,” Pearl muttered.
Bo grinned, tail swishing. “They were cool, though. In a poop-inducing kinda way.”
Gregory narrowed his eyes. Samuel’s mouth flattened to a thin line.
“Lord Chudwell lived a long and fulfilling undead life,” the banshee continued shrilly, doing her best to ignore the cat and the dog. “I shall now invite his acquaintances to say a few words about him.”
The service progressed with various vampires taking to the podium to share memories of the deceased. To Bo’s delight, most of these seemed to involve dinner parties, investment portfolios, and the occasional blood duel.
“He once challenged the Duke of Carlyle to a sword fight over a disputed wine vintage,” one elderly vampire recalled fondly. “Giles won, naturally.”
“What vintage?” another vampire called out.
“1847 Bordeaux.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd.
I was beginning to understand why vampires had such complicated social lives.
To my surprise, Barney didn’t take to the podium. I couldn’t help but feel he was still in denial about his friend’s death.
The banshee finally called for anyone who wished to pay their final respects to approach the casket. I rose along with Victoria, Samuel, and the Tremaines and joined the mourners shuffling into a queue in the center aisle.
Betsy and Quincy stood at the front, handing out red roses.
Bo padded alongside me as I approached the ornate coffin, flower in hand. It was my first time seeing Lord Chudwell.
He was a distinguished-looking vampire even in death and had a kind face and laughter lines around his eyes that spoke of an undead life well lived. Someone had stitched up Mr. Snuggles and laid the teddy bear beside him. The stitches matched the neat row on Lord Chudwell’s neck.
I had just placed the flower inside the casket when the hairs rose on the back of my neck. My wolf had just gone on alert.
I was pretty certain I’d seen the body twitch.
Samuel stopped where he was making his way back to his seat, no doubt sensing the sudden tension humming through me across the mate bond.
I frowned and leaned in closer to take a look at the dead vampire.
“Abby, what are you—?” Didi started suspiciously in my ear.
Lord Chudwell sneezed.
14
DEAD WRONG
A strangled “Gah!”left me.
Didi gasped in my ear.
