“Of course you don’t. Come to think of it, I’ve never even seen you use a phone. Well, I’ll give you my postal address when I have one and you can send me a strongly-worded letter written with parchment and quill. Better?”
The only thingbetterwill be sating my hunger with your lips …“Much.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WINNIE
Isis: The Nevermore Coven are doing a little sleuthing today. Maisie has a lead on Danny’s case. Want to come with? Celeste is bringing cupcakes.
“Ineed to ask.” I swallow a mouthful of one of Celeste’s amazing cupcakes while we stare out the windows of Komal’s beaten-up van at the ornate iron gates of the Sanctus Estate. “I thought you were called the Nevermore Murder Club because you liked books with a little death and righteous revenge. Are you saying that you’re amateur detectives?”
It’s been a week since I led Alaric through the intention-setting exercise, and he’s made such amazing progress on the house. We’ve filled three skips and Reginald has made so many trips to the local charity shop that they now pretend to be “out to lunch” whenever he pulls up. I guess there are only so many old train sets and Victorian frock coats they can take.
Things between Alaric and me are …interesting. We’ve struck up the kind of intimate friendship that can onlybe forged between professional organiser and person with far too much stuff. As we unearth more of his hobbies, he tells me stories about his art and the subjects he depicts, which mostly seem to be historical battles and superstitions. For someone who never leaves his castle and seems to have a tenuous grasp of what century he lives in, Alaric’s art calls upon the breadth of human experience. Every emotion – from joy and hope to sorrow and rage – is represented in his work.
But Alaric is so much more than his art. Behind that gruff exterior is a passionate man who cares deeply about the few souls he trusts (Mirabelle, Reginald, even Gideon), and has a wickedly dry sense of humour. Last night, I even caught him nodding his head along to a Siouxsie and the Banshees song.
If only my stupid ovaries would remember that he’s my boss and absolutely, totally off limits, and stop spontaneously combusting every time his lips curl back into that secretive half-smile of his. It’s probably a good thing I’m out with the book club tonight, because I don’t know how much more I can take of Alaric’s storm-filled eyes before I wear out my favourite toy.
I turn my attention back to the gates, which have remained closed since we got here.
“Don’t you know that in order to have a book club, one also must do some amateur detecting? It’s like a rule. We’ve been instrumental in solving several murder mysteries around the village.” Komal licks lemon icing from her long fingers.
“Does this village attract murderers or something?” I ask, only half-joking. “Do you get a two-for-one Sunday roast at the pub if you’ve offed someone? Sounds like there’s an awful lot of violent death for a small English village. I think I’ll go back to London, the crime capital of the UK, where it’s safer.”
“I have theories about a magical locus in the middle of the village green. Aleister Crowley used to lead rituals on the exact spot. But whatever the reason, we should tell Lilac about the two-for-one Sunday roast idea.” Isis strokes her chin. “That’s genius.”
“So why are we getting involved in investigatingDanny’s murder?”
“Eventhough no woman in this village feels an ounce of sadness at Danny’s untimely demise, we suspect there might be something strange going on, and the police are hopeless.” Maisie adjusts her binoculars. “When I interviewed Inspector Hayes for the paper, he told me that he’s following up on several leads, which is Hayes-speak for: ‘We’re completely stumped.’ Danny had a lot of enemies in the village. Winnie’s hot vampire is top of the list since he was one of the last people seen talking to Danny in the pub, and it didn’t look friendly. But he’s far from the only suspect. And since Winnie has the hots for him, we owe it to her to at least attempt to clear his name.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. My cheeks flare with heat, but I don’t correct Maisie. I do have the hots for Alaric. If only he felt the same …
If only he wasn’t a client.
“So I spoke to Lilac and she told me the same story about the fellow asking after Danny. I drove out to Sanctus Estate earlier today and asked if Danny was working for them. The lady at their office said no, absolutely not, but my reporter’s sense is tingling, so—” Maisie drops the binoculars. “It’s go time.”
Maisie shoves open the van door and sprints for the gates. A ludicrous red sportscar has pulled up on the other side, and the gates swing open to allow it through. I squint into the darkness and recognise Gideon’s golden curls behind the wheel. He leans out the window to chat with someone at the security desk, and Maisie slips past the other side of his car and disappears into the estate.
“Shouldn’t one of us follow her?” I ask.
“Not me.” Komal wiggles her fingers. “My hands are sticky.”
“Not me,” Mina pipes up. “I have an annoying habit of crashing into things and giving us away.”
“Not me. One doesn’t run in heels.” Arabella pulls her Prada sleep mask further over her eyes, reclining her seat back so far that Dora’s knees are practically touching her ears. “Wake me when Maisie’s arrestedfor trespassing.”
Gideon drives away and the gate swings shut again. How is Maisie going to get out? I scan the area, taking in the impressive high walls and dramatic columned gate of the estate. This entrance to Sanctus Estate is down a narrow country road halfway between the village and Black Crag Castle. We’re surrounded by woodland. The only other building is a small Norman keep that’s been converted into a private residence back up the road. I can just make it out through the trees. Lights flicker in the tiny slits that serve as the building’s only windows.
“Who lives there?” I squint at the building, wondering who, apart from Alaric, would choose to live out here in a draughty old castle. How many reclusive Lords have made Argleton their home?
“This creepy guy named Baby Gargantuan,” says Komal. The girls giggle.
“Baylor,” says Arabella without removing her mask. “His name is Baylor Godsven.”
“Right.” Isis nods. “Basil Codswallop. Now, he’sdefinitelya vampire. He even wears a cape, and he doesn’t seem to age. He’s seen in the village even less than Alaric, but when he appears, bad things happen. That castle of his is supposedly haunted.”
“People have heard and seen a lot of strange things out here,” Dora says with a shudder.
