A tense hush followed.
“Is there anyone in Amberford who might know more about this type of magic?” I finally asked Barney. “Someone who’s maybe studied those texts or similar books?”
Barney hesitated.
“There is one person,” the vampire admitted. “A man with an extensive library of rare occult tomes and a peculiar interest in unusual magical practices. You know him, actually.”
“Wait.” Samuel narrowed his eyes. “You don’t mean?—”
“Arthur Holt.” Barney nodded. “He’s spent years collecting obscure texts and artifacts. If anyone knowsabout the kind of magic the Thornwicks were attempting, it would be him.”
Arthur Holt had spent a decade trapped in the ley lines beneath his own mansion before emerging naked at the Holt ball in one of the most memorable moments of my albeit short supernatural career.
“Will he talk to us?” Gavin asked.
Samuel leveled a steady gaze at me. “He owes you a favor. Maybe it’s time to collect.”
We left Barney’s place shortly and piled into the Bentley. I pulled out my phone while Samuel started the engine and pulled away from the house.
“I’ll text Lauren and ask if she can set up a meeting with Marcus’s father.”
“We’re really going to the creepy forest mansion?” Bo asked hesitantly.
“Probably.” I studied him in the rearview mirror. “What happened to your enthusiasm about this mission?”
Bo’s ears drooped. “It stops at creepy forest mansions.” Hope brightened his face. “Do you think they’ll have cookies?”
I frowned at him over my shoulder. “You are going on a diet, mister.”
Bo made a shocked sound, his eyes rounding to the size of golf balls.
Samuel muttered, “About time,” under his breath.
Gavin gave the Husky a sympathetic look and patted his shoulder.
14
OCCULT TOMES
Magic brushed faintlyagainst my nerve endings as the car wound up the mountain road four hours later. My wolf grew alert when she sensed the convergence of ley lines grow closer.
We were approaching the Holt mansion.
Since the appointment was after office hours, Didi and Gavin had bailed on us and promised to catch up the following morning.
Samuel turned into the private road that marked the edge of the property. A thick pine and oak forest rose around us, the soaring branches merging to form a canopy that swallowed the sky. Fading sunlight filtered through in golden shafts.
Sullen silence radiated from the back seat of the Bentley.
Bo had been sulking ever since he got into the car twenty minutes ago.
“You had five cookies at Barney’s,” I reminded him curtly. “Never mind the three muffins this morning.”
“They were small muffins,” the Husky said in a surly voice.
“I heard you ate half a cake when Abby met Ellie for coffee the other day,” Samuel pointed out.
“Ellie makes a mean cake,” Bo protested. “It’d be a crime not to eat it.”
