Page 49 of Death Game: Supernatural Battle

The two-hour drive here wasn’t totally wasted. My estate work was up to date—for now. The frenzy would continue until my CEOs believed I wouldn’t disappear again. Unfortunately, there were no assurances of that. Each day could be my last if I didn’t find a solution to restore equilibrium inIngeniumsoon.

I’d made the Indebted wait at the ends of the street. My crew surrounded Miss Hoyt’s house, out of sight.

I knocked on the door of the narrow townhouse. Frankton Gorge was wine country. The houses lining the main street were charming Victorian-style apartments. I’d come up here a couple of times with Tommy. We got all dressed up and consumed far too many bottles of sacrificial grapes.

Light footsteps echoed through the house before the door swung open. A towering woman with red hair regarded me warily, her eyes darting to the black car where Fred sat in the driver’s seat.

This was Sandra Hoyt. I’d googled her.

“Miss Hoyt, I’m a family friend of Mr Hothen. My name is Basilia Le Spyre.”

Her eyes widened. “Le Spyre. What are you doing here?”

Smiling, I said, “The subject I wish to discuss is of a sensitive nature. Do you mind if I come in?”

The thing about a last name like mine was people knew better than to say no—especially if those people worked for the council.

Yet she hesitated.

“I haven’t come to harm you,” I told her, dropping my smile. I could spot her brand of fear from a mile away. Maybe literally with my sharpened vision. She didn’t leave Bluff City for her career. She’d been scared by Vissimo.

Badly.

She took another look at the car. “It’s just you?”

And twenty-five vampires. “Just me. I’m not here to cause problems.”

Sighing, Sandra gave up and opened the door wider. “Come in. I don’t have long though. I have a meeting in an hour.”

Sure she did.

I followed her into an elegant lounge room that matched the architecture of the house. Miss Hoyt was tasteful—and if Mr Hothen’s interest was piqued by her, the woman had smarts.

Smart enough to get out of danger when things heated up.

“How is Walter?” she asked.

I thought of the silver fox. “Fine last time I saw him. You know him. Doesn’t sit still for too long.”

Her expression turned wry. “He doesn’t. Are you dating him then?”

Ew.“Mr Hothen is more like a grandfather to me.”

A small smile played on her lips. “Indeed. Then how may I assist one of the richest people in the world?”

I leaned back, watching her. “For several years, you were the town planner on a rezoning application. Last year, you moved to Frankton Gorge. Six months later, the development proposal was approved.”

Her mouth tightened. “I don’t know which—”

“Mr Ringly’s DA for the 70 hectares known as Lot 42, previously agricultural land.”

She blinked. “I can’t discuss cases as I am sure you know.”

I did. But she would.

Focusing my thoughts elsewhere, I said, “They scared you, didn’t they? Was it just one of them or more?”

Sandra Hoyt froze.

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