Gavin’s horns popped out fully.
“That would be her now,” Barney said without batting an eye. “She’s been experimenting with French pastry. It’s not going well.”
Melvina burst into view, her braided beard quivering with emotion. Her nose was dusted with flour, her battleaxe was strapped to her back, and she was wearing her usual vampire-themed apron. This one featured a vampire running away from a clove of garlic with an axe.
“Master, the meringues collapsed,” she blubbered, brandishing a baking tray of sad, deflated blobs. “Again!”
Barney observed the meringue corpses with an expression that said he had weathered many baking catastrophes. “Sometimes, life gives you lemons.”
“You mean meringues,” Didi contributed with an unhelpful smirk.
Melvina’s face transformed when she spotted us. “Oh.” She abandoned the meringue tray on a side table and rushed over to pump our hands enthusiastically. “I made a fresh batch of cookies to celebrate your visit. Werewolf-shaped ones this time.” Her face fell slightly. “The heads fell off again, but they taste delicious, I promise.”
“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Samuel said diplomatically while I tried not to wince.
The dwarf’s grip would have crushed my bones had I been human.
“Are they peanut butter?” Bo wagged his tail so fast it blurred. “I like those.”
Melvina beamed. “Yes, they are. I made extra-large ones for you.” She scuttled back toward the kitchen.
Harold the butler materialized. “Ah, I see your guests have arrived, Master. Wonderful. I shall fetch the tea.” He glided away just as silently as he’d appeared. His sharp voice came in the distance. “Melvina, lose the axe.”
We followed Barney down a hallway lined with oil paintings worth more than my annual salary to a comfortable sitting room. Bay windows overlooked manicured gardens and a fire crackled in the marble fireplace.
Harold reappeared with tea service and a plate of headless werewolf cookies. Bo eyed the treats with unblinking focus.
Samuel waited until the butler left before getting straight to business.
“We need to ask you about some old Amberford history,” he told Barney. “Specifically, two witch families. The Marchefords and the Thornwicks.”
Barney frowned faintly. “That’s not a period I particularly enjoydiscussing.”
“We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” I said. “The Lincoln sisters are missing.”
“We think it might be connected,” Didi added.
Barney’s expression grew shuttered. “This has to do with your compliance investigation?”
Didi nodded, her face tight. She had searched her coven archives for details of the incident involving the Marchefords and the Thornwicks after I’d called her and had found nothing.
It seemed the Amberford covens had decided to bury that particular chapter of their history forever.
Barney set down his teacup with deliberate care.
“I guess I have no choice since this concerns a Hawthorne & Associates case. Can you tell me what you’ve found so far?”
We gave him a rundown of what we’d unearthed in the last few days. I related what I’d learned that morning from Mrs. Chen about the forbidden magic the two families had attempted to use, the failed coup, and the subsequent exile.
Barney listened without interrupting, his face giving nothing away.
“Your neighbor has a good memory,” he said finally. “But she’s left out some details.”
13
SHADY HISTORY
My wolf pricked her ears.
