Page 25 of Seduction in Blood
"I'm on my own for lunch and thought I'd grab something to take outside."
Cook was quite pleased to pack me a small picnic. No one had asked him to do that in decades, which had been my only clue so far that he was a vampire. A vampire cook. Who would have thought it?
"Why would a vampire want to be a cook?" I hadn't meant it as a slight, and fortunately, he didn't take it as one.
He sliced thin sections of roast beef and turkey to place on thick slices of homemade sourdough bread. "I came from a poor house. Even with centuries to build wealth, wrong partnerships can have long-term consequences. To lighten the load on our Father, many of us in his house helped where we could." He stopped cutting the tomatoes as he stared into the distance. "I remember the first time I was up to my elbows in flour, making my first loaf of bread. I can still feel that joy I had from making something. When I joined Devon's family, I was encouraged to go to school."
"You're a trained chef?" With my background, growing up in a wealthy neighborhood, I knew a little something about the subject from the dozens of chefs that had come and gone before I left.
He nodded and pointed his knife to a small plaque on the other side of the kitchen. I wandered over to read the inscription: "Institute of Culinary Education." One of the most prestigious schools in the world.
"Why aren't we calling you chef something?" I'd also learned from my family's kitchen that chefs were typically cranky, stuffy, and without a drop of humor.
"Those people are crazy—too temperamental. All I want to do is cook, so the name stuck. I like it." He wrapped the sandwich in plastic and placed it in a small basket next to a cup of fruit. Then he added a bottle of mineral water and shooed me away with a quirky grin.
I glanced around to find the best place to sit since the grass was still damp from the overnight mist. I dropped to a bare spot that had caught enough sun and leaned against the tree to stare at the two grave markers.
Even at this distance, I could see the names were barely legible. I couldn't make out the last name from here, but it didn't look to be Trelane. It appeared the year of death was some time in the early 1900s. Devon's off-handed comments made me think he was much older, which only piqued my interest at whose markers these belonged to if they didn't bear his last name. Maybe they were on his mother's side of the family. Or they could be human.
I was halfway through my lunch when I glanced up at the house and almost dropped my fruit cup. Had the blinds moved in that third-floor room? My uncontrollable urge to sneak about shouted at me to take advantage of being on my own. I swallowed the rest of the fruit, shoving everything else back in the basket.
Before heading back to the house, I took a moment to stop at the grave markers. The first names were entirely worn away by the salt and rain. I could make out a few letters of the surname, but they were only vowels, an "a" and an "e". Not nearly enough. There was only one date, equally difficult to read, and I assumed it was the date of their death. I could confirm the first two digits on one marker were definitely a one and a nine. The last two numbers were readable on the second marker—a two and a five. It was impossible to tell if they had died at the same time, though the headstones were similar in style.
I turned to head for the house. This time, I distinctly saw movement on the third floor.
Almost racing back, I left the basket on a side table in the foyer, promising to return it to the kitchen later. I didn't want Cook to know I was back in the house, so I paused to listen. Vampires could be noisier than one would think, but they were typically deathly quiet. All I could hear was the ticking of a clock. I strolled to the staircase, just a girl going to her room, but when I reached the second floor, I stopped again.
Silence.
I didn't know where Devon's room was. I wasn't even sure which floor. That could be his room on the third floor, but that didn't make sense unless he kept someone locked in there. That was a creepy thought. He didn't seem the type, but how would I know after just two days? I had to stop thinking about that dream. Dreams were manifestations of our subconscious, not reality.
Taking the silence as my cue, I tiptoed up the last flight of stairs, grimacing when I hit a soft board and the screech reverberated in my head. I froze, waiting to see if anyone heard me and would come running. I had no excuse for being up here when Devon had explicitly told me to avoid the third floor. Had he known at the time what an open invitation that had been?
I smiled. If he discovered me, it would be a teachable moment on what not to tell a thief. Continuing on, I treaded carefully until I reached the third floor. A tall bookcase sat against the wall, slightly to the left of the stairs, and I scurried to stand beside it as if it offered some unique hiding place. With the shadows created from dim hall lighting, it was better than some places I'd hidden on my jobs. I peeked around the case and glanced down the opposite hall of where I wanted to go.
There was nothing but shadows as far as I could see, but I slinked that way, just to get a feel for the floor plan. The hall stretched for what appeared to be half the length of the mansion and was filled with decorative tables, two chairs, and a full-sized armored statue. I sighed. Every old mansion came with one of those. I counted ten doors in all, five on each side. When I reached the end, I was somewhat disappointed, positive I would have found Devon's master suite. There was a door, but it was smaller, less grand than the other doors, and I assumed it must be a storage closet.
I had little time before someone came along, and as much as I wanted to see what was inside, my goal was on the other end of the hall. I retraced my steps and was almost back to the staircase when I heard the click of a door opening. It was from behind me. I'd never make it down the stairs without being seen, so I dashed to the bookcase and slid into my hiding spot.
I pressed as far back as I could go, wishing someone had stuck a fern or some other tall houseplant next to the bookcase. Anything to stay covered. I held my breath as the heavy footsteps grew closer, muffled as they were on the carpet. It must be a man. One of the vampires? Would he be able to sense me?
I glanced to my right, hoping there was something else I could hide behind, but there wasn't enough time. Besides, there wasn't anything more than a small bench next to a tall floor lamp, which was thankfully dark. The only thing I had going for me was that the bookcase didn't sit flush with the staircase. Whoever was coming wouldn't see me if they were focused on the stairs, as most people would be.
If they stopped partway down and turned to look back—that would be a problem.
The footsteps slowed as they reached the staircase. I forced my eyes to stay open but lowered my gaze and waited for shoes to appear. It might be superstition, but I was a true believer in knowing when someone was watching me. It was a sixth sense someone in my field implicitly trusted.
Would a vampire believe the same thing? I smirked. I had no doubt of it.
The shoes stopped at the top of the stairs. Crap.
When I raised my gaze, I glimpsed a male figure. No one I recognized from this angle. He was checking his pockets. Seeming satisfied, he continued down. I refused to take a breath until I heard him jogging down the next flight of stairs.
I gave it another minute, knowing I should race back down before someone found me, but what kind of cat burglar would I be if I did that? Maybe I could say I was practicing for the job. I almost snorted before peeling myself away from the bookcase and turning to the right. After a few steps, I saw past the shadows to a much shorter hallway with double doors at the end. I could barely make out the carved scrollwork in the poor light.
This was more like it. The only question was whether this was Devon's room or someone else's. Like maybe the cloaked figure that had stood next to the graves that first night. I racked my brain, trying to remember the person's size, but even with the lantern, I couldn't guess whether they had been male or female.
The only other door in the hallway was another closet door on the left, not far from the double doors. I inched closer, my senses on full alert for anything behind or in front of me. I should be scanning everything, but I couldn't seem to pull my gaze away from the door handle.
