Page 12 of How to Stake a Vampire (Diary of a Reluctant Werewolf #2)

HERDING CATS

“I can’t believe I’m being made to work,” Pearl sneered where she sat regally on Victoria’s lap.

“It’s about time you started earning your keep,” Samuel said coldly as he pulled up to Lord Chudwell’s estate for the second time in as many days. “That gourmet food you inhale regularly doesn’t pay for itself.”

“There’s no need to be unpleasant, Samuel,” Victoria protested. “You know Pearl is the glue holding our family together.”

Pearl looked briefly ambivalent about being compared to something that used to be made from horses’ hooves.

“Yeah,” Bo said beside me, his tail thumping against the car door in solidarity with the cat. “It’s not Pearl’s fault she acts like a stuck-up queen. She was born that way.”

Pearl narrowed her eyes dangerously at my dog.

“How about everyone calm down?” I sighed.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and I could already feel a headache brewing.

The previous evening had ended in a complete disaster.

Lord Chudwell’s three Persian cats had taken one look at our investigative team and decided we were beneath their notice.

They’d spent the entire twenty minutes of our attempt at an interview perched on their velvet chaise longue, occasionally deigning to sniff dismissively in our direction in a way that made it clear that speaking to mere mortals was a grave insult to their aristocratic sensibilities.

Doubly so if said mortals were of common stock.

Rita had tried hard to hold her laughter back at this unexpected development, but being a banshee made this difficult and the halls of the mansion had echoed with shrill cackling for some time, much to Betsy’s and Quincy’s dismay.

Even Detective Johnson had been unable to hide a satisfied smile at the fact we got the same treatment as him.

“They actually turned their backs on us,” Gavin had complained afterward. “All three of them. In unison .” The dragon newt’s nostrils had smoked indignantly.

“Like a synchronized swimming team,” Bo had added glumly. “But with more attitude. And claws.” My dog’s attempts at interspecies diplomacy had fallen flat and almost earned him a deadly nose boop.

“I’ve interviewed hostile witnesses before, but never ones who literally presented me with their rear ends,” Didi had muttered darkly.

The cats had remained stubbornly silent throughout our visit, communicating only through tail swishes and the odd disdainful meow. Which was why we were now back at the estate, armed with Pearl and what we hoped was a foolproof plan.

Didi, Barney, and Gavin were waiting for us in the foyer, along with Detective Johnson. They stiffened a little at the sight of Victoria and Pearl. Polite greetings were exchanged, after which my coworkers and the detective breathed a sigh of relief.

Betsy appeared. The housekeeper’s gray skin had taken on a slightly green tinge, which I was learning was the ghoul equivalent of breaking out in hives.

“Their Ladyships are being particularly difficult this morning,” she said anxiously. “Ever since they heard you were bringing—reinforcements.” She shot a nervous glance at Pearl.

Pearl was surveying the mansion with the air of someone conducting a property inspection.

“I’m sure Pearl will manage them just fine,” Victoria reassured.

“You and me both, lady,” Detective Johnson said under his breath. “I don’t want to write another report about uncooperative feline witnesses.”

“I’m telling you, Fur Ball,” Bo whined at Pearl, “these cats are very snooty.”

“No one in New England is snootier than I,” Pearl declared haughtily.

“She has a point,” I said solemnly.

Pearl’s eyes shrank to slits.

Quincy the vampire butler emerged from a hallway before things could deteriorate into an all-out cat fight. “Their Ladyships are ready to receive you in the blue drawing room,” he announced in a hushed voice. He hesitated. “I’ve prepared some fresh salmon, just in case.”

“So we can smother them with it?” Didi asked nastily.

Detective Johnson started looking antsy. Barney began tapping a foot. Gavin was trying to push his horns back in.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Samuel said in a hard voice.

I wanted to warn my alpha this could turn into a satire but decided to hold my tongue. Nobody needed extra sass this morning.

We followed the housekeeper and the butler to the blue drawing room.

Samuel stayed slightly behind me, either out of a protective urge or because it was a strategic position for making a quick exit if the cat interview went sideways.

Given our track record with Lord Chudwell’s pets so far, I couldn’t exactly blame him.

Besides, he had enough feline-related drama to contend with at home without having to suffer it at work too.

Betsy took a deep breath and opened the doors with the look of someone defusing a bomb.

We peered inside a room decorated in all shades of blue. The three Persian cats were arranged on yet another chaise longue, this one covered in indigo damask.

Bella, the white one with the pink bow, sat in the center. She was flanked by the silver tabby Coco and the cream-colored Truffles. All three had their tails wrapped primly around their paws and wore expressions that suggested they were personally offended by our very existence.

“Anyone else think they look like a firing squad?” Detective Johnson asked nervously.

Samuel and I hushed him.

Undaunted by the three cats’ withering stares, Victoria stepped forward.

“Allow me to present Lady Veronica Pearl Whiskerton the Third.”

“Whiskerton?” Detective Johnson hissed. “Really?!”

Didi stepped on his foot.

Pearl ignored the detective and leapt down gracefully from Victoria’s arms. The Persian cats’ eyes narrowed in unison as she approached the chaise longue.

“I understand you witnessed yesterday’s unpleasantness,” Pearl started without preamble, her voice carrying a note of authority I’d only ever heard once before, at the Holts’ ball. “Now, how about you stop being difficult and tell these people what they want to know.”

An icy silence descended upon the drawing room. Gavin gulped audibly. Didi’s knuckles whitened around her pen and notepad. Victoria looked pleased.

Bella lifted her chin.

“And you are?” she asked in a voice dripping with contempt.

“Someone who outranks you.” Pearl sat down and began grooming her paw with deliberate nonchalance.

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

I was impressed despite myself.

Unfortunately, Lord Chudwell’s cats weren’t.

“I beg your pardon?” Coco’s voice had icebergs that could have sunk an ocean liner.

“You heard me,” Pearl drawled. “I’m a Hawthorne pack familiar. You’re pets. The hierarchy is crystal clear.”

Truffles hissed and arched her back. “How dare you?—?!”

“Shut it.” Pearl fixed the cat with a stare that could have frozen boiling water.

“Let me make something clear. The reason I’m being made to suffer this indignity instead of having a well-deserved nap on a radiator right now is because you three were too busy being precious to help solve a murder yesterday.

Your owner is dead and you appear more concerned with your wounded pride than finding his killer. ”

The three Persian cats went from haughty to visibly uncomfortable.

“She’s good at this,” I muttered.

“Decades of practice,” Victoria said.

“Can I borrow her sometime?” Detective Johnson asked in a low voice. “Some of our perps can be tight-lipped.”

Bo placed a sympathetic paw on the police officer’s leg. “You can’t afford Pearl.”

A tense standoff was happening across the way.

The silence stretched until even I felt compelled to confess to something.

Bella finally cracked.

“The intruder had a briefcase,” the cat said reluctantly.

We leaned forward attentively, Didi with her notepad.

“It was black leather,” Truffles added reluctantly. “Nice quality. Italian, I think.”

“Did you see what was inside it?” I asked.

Bella shot a wary glance at Pearl and shifted uncomfortably. “Vials. Small glass vials filled with blood.”

Didi’s pen stopped moving. Samuel’s expression sharpened. Victoria started looking a little green around the gills.

“How many vials?” Barney asked quietly.

“Dozens,” Coco admitted. “They were labeled, but he moved too quickly for us to make out anything useful.”

Truffles’s ears twitched. “I did spot a name on one of the tubes though,” the cat confessed reluctantly. Her eyes flicked warily to Barney. “It said Maximus Dorian Bludworth.”

“Oh my,” Victoria mumbled.

A frozen hush fell around the room.

We all looked worriedly at Barney, Detective Johnson the most nervous of our group. The vampire’s eyes were glowing crimson and his nails were scoring thin lines in his palms.

“That’s my great-uncle,” he ground out, his voice carrying a troubling echo of the power he’d wielded when he’d subdued Gregory.

I hesitated, the smell of the vampire’s blood making my wolf fidget.

“Is he—?” I trailed off awkwardly.

Barney took a shuddering breath and forced himself to relax. “Alive, last I heard.”

“Was there anything else?” Samuel asked the cats stiffly in the fraught silence.

“There was a pamphlet,” Bella said. “In the case.”

I stared. “What kind of pamphlet?”

“It was for a funeral parlor.” Bella’s tail swished hesitantly. “Pinevale.”

Betsy made a strangled sound, her gray skin now completely green. She swayed slightly. Quincy moved to steady her.

“That’s where Master Chudwell’s funeral is going to be held tomorrow afternoon,” the butler mumbled.

Bo’s eyes brightened. “I smell a clue!” He sniffed the air. “And salmon. I definitely smell salmon.”

The butler awkwardly extracted a sandwich bag stuffed with fresh salmon fillets from his pocket. Lord Chudwell’s cats’ eyes brightened with thinly masked interest.

I lowered my brows. Bo was right. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Why would a vampire be carrying a pamphlet for a funeral home?” Gavin asked, puzzled.

“Maybe he was going to check it out for himself?” Detective Johnson asked with a grimace. “You know, make future arrangements?”

“Vampires are known for being organized like that,” Victoria confirmed.

“You’re certain it was Pinevale?” Samuel asked the cats.

“We can read,” Bella said with wounded dignity. “And there were pictures. You know, coffins, flowers. Morbid-looking graves.”

Pearl was watching the cats with narrowed eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

I blinked, surprised.

For a moment, the three Persians looked like they were going to deny the claim. They gave in to Pearl’s stringent stare and huddled together for a whispered conference.

Bella finally spoke. “The man who attacked our master. He smelled wrong.”

Samuel stilled. “Wrong how?”

“Like—like old things. You know, museums and dusty books. And power.”

Truffles wrinkled her nose. “Dark power.”

We traded wary looks. That wasn’t ominous at all.

“I think we should attend Lord Chudwell’s funeral,” I suggested.

Didi nodded. Barney clenched his jaw.

Detective Johnson raised an eyebrow. “Stakeout?”

“Oh, I like those,” Gavin enthused, nostrils smoking.

“I don’t,” Bo complained.

Samuel frowned and rubbed his chin. “It would be better if some of us attended as guests.”

“That sounds eminently sensible,” Victoria agreed.

“I can add you to the guest list,” Quincy said where he was still propping up a green Betsy.

“We would appreciate it,” Samuel said gratefully.

“Anyone else think this funeral is doomed?” Bella whispered as we turned to leave.

“Probably,” Coco agreed.

“Definitely,” Truffles corrected.

At that point in my life, I had no idea exactly how true their predictions would turn out to be.