Page 92 of It All Started with a Bite

“When is this thing?” I asked wearily.

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

My mouth pressed to a thin line.

My weekend of R&R was doomed before it even began.

29

High Tea and Higher Stakes

A Gothic castleloomed out of the mist curling off the waters of a lake, a few miles outside Amberford. I studied the gray stone walls and dark slate turrets of Château Montmartre as it rose in the distance.

The place looked like something out of a dark fairy tale under the grim winter sky.

“Charming, isn’t it?” Caroline murmured.

The pack enforcer was tagging along for the tea party.

From Ellie’s research last night, Château Montmartre was built in the late 1800s by a French count with more money than sense, ergo a vampire. The castle had fallen into a state of disrepair after its original occupants returned to mainland Europe in the mid-1900s. It was eventually bought by a business conglomerate and turned into a luxury hotel that quickly became known as a prime destination for the wealthy to enjoy all the great things the East Coast had to offer.

To their credit, the architects in charge of the restoration had kept the castle’s original features, including the weathered-faced gargoyles watching the surrounding forest with eternal vigilance from their perches along its crenellated parapets.

Victoria drove through gates bearing bats on their supporting pillars and headed up a winding driveway that meandered through the forest before opening onto a large, graveled forecourt. A parking lot discretely hidden by carefully manicured hedges sat to one side.

Victoria turned into it and parked her Mercedes between a Rolls Royce and a Bentley.

“This place is fancier than your litter box,” Bo told Pearl.

“Please.” Pearl sniffed imperiously. “It wishes it were as nice as my litter box.”

“She’s right,” Caroline murmured as we climbed out of the car. “Her litter box expenses are exorbitant. Not that she does anything to earn her keep in this household.” She gave the cat a pointed look.

Pearl hopped into Victoria’s arms and blinked slowly. “But I’m pretty.”

Bo grinned and thumped his tail on the ground.

Tension tightened my belly when I looked up at the castle’s imposing facade.

Pointed Gothic arches framed its tall, mullioned windows, the leaded glass gleaming in the weak winter sunlight. Flying buttresses ran along the walls and supported a roof adorned with elaborate copper finials that had long since turned green. Wisps of smoke curled from the stone chimney stacks rising like sentinels between the steep gables.

The hairs on my nape rose when I sensed traces of magic in the air.

My gaze found the keystones above the windows and doors.

Victoria noticed my stare. “The count had protective runes carved into the building.”

“Why would a vampire’s castle need protective runes?”

“Maybe to fend off villagers with pitchforks and flame torches?” Bo panted.

“That sounds unlikely,” I muttered.

“Bo’s right,” Caroline said.

I blinked. “He is?”

Caroline shrugged. “Yeah.”

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