Page 85 of Your Coffin or Mine
I glance over the room, noting the disarray of furniture and boxes that will be set to rights shortly. “Look who hasn’t been paying attention—that’s old news, but that is why I need it to be perfect. And I will destroy the imbecile if he does attempt to get between us. It is not an issue.”
He throws his hands up in weak surrender. “If you say so. It most definitely needs to stay a non-issue.”
It will. Nothing will stand in my way of winning her. The battlegrounds may have changed, but I would not mistake the playing field as anything other than war. “I will unalive him.”
Doyle lets out a bark of laughter. “You have got to stay off social media. Unalive? Who even are you?”
With the fireplace moved, Hilda steps into view, her skeletal head swiveling around eerily.
“Unnngh,” she complains at me.
“I know you just cleaned in here, Hilda,” I answer, the only person able to understand her. “But we have a dilapidated castle to decorate, and we now have ... five hours to do it,” I say after pulling back my shirtsleeve to look at my watch. “We are just storing the furniture here for the time being.”
They both groan.
“Stop it, the both of you. Hilda, you know you’re not allowed upstairs, so don’t even think it. You must stay hidden, and you”—I eyeball Doyle, now reclining on the massive chaise lounge—“go help the chef, or so help me, I will hire men in loincloths to do it just to spite you.”
He leaps to his feet theatrically and runs to Hilda, grabbing her bony fingers in his hands. “Men in loincloths, in the castle? Oh my! Whatever shall we do?”
“Oh, forfuck’ssake.”
“Hilda, he’s gone mad, madder than usual. Want to help me crypt him for a century or so?” Doyle says dramatically. “I bet Aubrey would appreciate men in loincloths, too. George will need a bib for all his drooling. I have no idea Bianca’s opinion on loincloths, unless one of the movers is rich.”
My upper lip lifts in disdain and I fold my arms. “You’ve made your point.”
Hilda huffs, yanking her bony fingers from his hand, her jaws clacking together ominously. The feather duster she holds shakes. “Unnngh.”
“No, you old dragon, I don’t need any blood bags.” I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Go find something else to clean in the crypt.”
“Unnnghn.”
“Then go clean it again,” I exclaim, lifting my hand away in disbelief. “One more week, Hilda, darling, and you can clean any part of the castle you desire. I swear to you.”
Hilda parries with her duster so quickly the wind whistles by my ear when she moves. Centuries older than myself, she is only slightly weaker, and I truly do not have time to play her little games. “Unh ungh.”
“Fine. In a week’s time, you may even clean the old cathedral. But leave the altar alone—those cobwebs have been there since grandfather decided to start a religion,” I say, rolling my white dress-shirt cuffs to my elbows as she leaves.
“She’s been acting more strange than usual,” Doyle remarks.
“You know she can hear you. Leave her be.”
“I know what she is, but it seems like you forget. She’s probably bored. God knows I would be with only cleaning to keep me entertained.”
My lip curls in censure. “You know nothing about Hilda. Now go do as I say.”
“The things I do for friendship,” he grumbles under his breath.
Shaking my head, I take in all the bric-a-brac left over from the past centuries. What a fucking mess. “You told everyone to expect lots of noise from the movers, yes?”
“Yes. Why?”
Utilizing telekinesis, I whip a chair into the air and chuckle when he scrambles around an odd-looking couch. His eyes widen with true fear.
Holding up his hand, he tries to stop me. “Do not, Vlad. Don’t you dare. Not again.”
“Dare what?” I cock my head at him. “Slapping you with furniture may get you in the mood to help. Besides, it’s beenforever since I’ve been able to lift anything of this size. This will be fun.”
“I just don’t want you to overdo it, old man,” he says, chuckling as if he doesn’t believe I’ll follow through.Just for that, I am going to make him catch furniture until he drops from exhaustion.
