I hastily muzzled my dog with a hand. My alpha swallowed a sigh.
Priscilla’s expression glazed over a little.
“Arthur is looking forward to speaking with you,” the Holt matriarch said as she led us towarda corridor on the right. “He doesn’t get many visitors who appreciate his particular interests.”
“You mean, the freaky occult stuff?” Bo said, though it came out garbled.
“Yes.” Priscilla’s diplomatic tone suggested she had mixed feelings about her husband’s hobby. “I’ve arranged tea in the library. I thought you might prefer some privacy.”
Samuel inclined his head. “We appreciate that.”
We came to a set of ornate double doors. Priscilla paused outside them.
“I do apologize,” she murmured. “I thought Lauren and Marcus would be back by now. They’ve been at some sort of exhibition in town.”
I kept my expression neutral.
Lauren had been booking a motel room when I’d messaged her that afternoon. About the only exhibition she and Marcus were attending involved being naked and loud.
“I’ll have the tea sent in,” Priscilla said. She retreated down the corridor, her heels clicking a measured rhythm against the marble.
Samuel knocked on the door.
A friendly voice issued from within. “Come in.”
We headed inside. I stopped and stared.
The Holts’ library looked like it belonged in a museum.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every wall, their surfaces crammed with leather-bound volumes, scrolls, and texts that looked more ancient than the mansion itself. Brass ladders on rolling tracks provided access tothe upper reaches and strategically placed reading lamps cast pools of warm light across oriental rugs. The room smelled of old paper, leather, and something faintly herbal that made my nose itch.
Arthur Holt rose from a wingback chair near a massive stone fireplace.
He’d cleaned up considerably since I’d last seen him. His hair and beard were trimmed and he wore a comfortable cardigan over a button-down shirt. His eyes though, remained unchanged. They held that same intense curiosity I remembered from the night he’d emerged from the ley lines, naked and bewildered.
“Abby, Samuel.” Arthur’s face broke into a warm smile. “It’s good to see you. Please, come in.” He crossed the room to shake our hands, his grip surprisingly firm for a man who’d spent a decade in magical limbo.
“Mr. Holt,” I said. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“Arthur, please. After what you did at the ball, we’re well past formalities.” He noticed Bo sniffing a lower shelf. “Your dog looks well.”
The Husky’s ears drooped.
“I won’t be for much longer,” he announced glumly. “Abby put me on a diet. The next time you see me, I’ll look like a wraith.”
Samuel’s shoulders trembled. I narrowed my eyes at my dog.
“Oh dear,” Arthur murmured, bemused. He gestured toward a cluster of armchairs arranged near the fire. “Sit, please. Lauren mentioned you wanted to ask me some questions.”
We settled into the seats while Arthurreclaimed his chair. A maid who smelled like a fae appeared with a tea service. I waited until she’d served us and left before speaking.
“Barney recommended we talk to you.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Barney?”
“Yes.” Samuel’s expression grew guarded. “Before we continue, the matter we’re about to discuss is strictly confidential.”
Surprise danced across Arthur’s face. He recovered his composure.
