I squinted. “What?”
“It’s Maude, Viola, and Petunia,” Samuel finally admitted reluctantly.
I blinked, certain I’d misheard. The way everyone refused to meet my eyestold me I hadn’t.
“Wait,” I said leadenly. “So, they’re Amberford’s MVP?”
Bo grinned and opened his mouth to say something.
“Don’t,” Samuel ordered darkly.
9
COVEN CALL
An hourlater found me riding shotgun with Samuel and Bo in the back of the Bentley.
“Is that Pinevale Funeral Parlor?” the Husky said, ears pricking as we passed a somber building with large grounds and a discreet sign.
Samuel’s fingers tightened reflexively on the Bentley’s steering wheel. “Yes.”
Bo wagged his tail enthusiastically.
“That’s where Lord Chudwell’s head popped off and I caught it,” he huffed. “Do you remember? And then the vampire lady screamed and kicked it across the room and?—”
“We remember,” I said flatly.
Bo licked his chops. “Those were good times. I wonder if they fixed the dent in the floor where he landed.” His tail thumped against the door. “Think they’d let me visit?”
“We’re not here to sightsee,” Samuel declared coolly.
“Also, next time we meet Lord Chudwell, please don’t reminisce about when you had his head in your mouth,” I added sharply.
Bo avoided my eyes in the rearview mirror.
Samuel cut his eyes to me. “He did that?!”
“When we bumped into him at Bean Me Up last week. Virgil had to do damage control.”
Samuel looked over his shoulder and pinned the Husky with an accusing stare.
“Fine.” Bo slumped in the backseat. “I won’t mention the Decapitation Episode.”
“How about you not capitalize that incident for starters?” Samuel snapped.
West Amberford got creepier the farther we drove into it.
The pleasant suburban roads gave way to narrow streets lined with gnarled oaks and Victorian houses that looked like they’d been built by people who’d decided to take the Gothic theme one step too far. Iron fences surrounded overgrown gardens. Smoke curled from chimneys crowded with sinister weather vanes. Curtains twitched in windows as we passed.
“Boy am I getting eldritch vibes,” my dog declared in a ghoulish tone.
Samuel raised an eyebrow. “Since when does he use words like eldritch?”
“I blame Pearl,” I said sourly before surveying our surroundings with a wary eye. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
“Yeah. We’re almost there.”
The Amberford Coven Headquarters sat at the endof a cul-de-sac and was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence that looked designed to keep things in rather than out. The building itself was a sprawling Victorian mansion, all dark wood and pointed gables and windows that seemed to watch our approach with disapproval.
