Page 29

29

High Tea and Higher Stakes

A Gothic castle loomed out of the mist curling off the waters of a lake, a few miles outside Amberford. I studied the gray stone walls and dark slate turrets of Chateau Montmartre as it rose in the distance.

The place looked like something out of a dark fairy tale under the grim winter sky.

“Charming, isn’t it?” Caroline murmured.

The pack enforcer was tagging along for the tea party.

From Ellie’s research last night, Chateau Montmartre was built in the late 1800s by a French count with more money than sense, ergo a vampire. The castle had fallen into a state of disrepair after its original occupants returned to mainland Europe in the mid-1900s. It was eventually bought by a business conglomerate and turned into a luxury hotel that quickly became known as a prime destination for the wealthy to enjoy all the great things the East Coast had to offer.

To their credit, the architects in charge of the restoration had kept the castle’s original features, including the weathered-faced gargoyles watching the surrounding forest with eternal vigilance from their perches along its crenellated parapets.

Victoria drove through gates bearing bats on their supporting pillars and headed up a winding driveway that meandered through the forest before opening onto a large, graveled forecourt. A parking lot discretely hidden by carefully manicured hedges sat to one side.

Victoria turned into it and parked her Mercedes between a Rolls Royce and a Bentley.

“This place is fancier than your litter box,” Bo told Pearl.

“Please.” Pearl sniffed imperiously. “It wishes it were as nice as my litter box.”

“She’s right,” Caroline murmured as we climbed out of the car. “Her litter box expenses are exorbitant. Not that she does anything to earn her keep in this household.” She gave the cat a pointed look.

Pearl hopped into Victoria’s arms and blinked slowly. “But I’m pretty.”

Bo grinned and thumped his tail on the ground.

Tension tightened my belly when I looked up at the castle’s imposing facade.

Pointed Gothic arches framed its tall, mullioned windows, the leaded glass gleaming in the weak winter sunlight. Flying buttresses ran along the walls and supported a roof adorned with elaborate copper finials that had long since turned green. Wisps of smoke curled from the stone chimney stacks rising like sentinels between the steep gables.

The hairs on my nape rose when I sensed traces of magic in the air.

My gaze found the keystones above the windows and doors.

Victoria noticed my stare. “The count had protective runes carved into the building.”

“Why would a vampire’s castle need protective runes?”

“Maybe to fend off villagers with pitchforks and flame torches?” Bo panted.

“That sounds unlikely,” I muttered.

“Bo’s right,” Caroline said.

I blinked. “He is?”

Caroline shrugged. “Yeah.”

I wondered once more if my dog was some kind of savant. He ruined the moment by sniffing a bush and cocking his leg against it.

“ Noooo! ” Victoria and I hissed in simultaneous horror.

Bo lowered his leg at our glares. “Sheesh.”

Pearl narrowed her eyes. “I see I have my work cut out for me. I shall make a gentleman out of you yet, mutt.”

Bo wagged his tail hesitantly. “Do gentlemen get to roll around in mud?”

“Only if they’re savages.”

Victoria ignored their conversation and directed a stern look at me as we crossed the forecourt. “Do you remember what I said?”

My shoulders slumped.

“Try not to embarrass the family name or start an interspecies war,” I replied morosely.

“And?” Victoria prompted.

I allowed myself a dramatic sigh. “And absolutely no punching anyone in the throat.”

“Even if they deserve it,” Victoria added with a sniff.

“Jesus, what happened at the Council of Elders?” Caroline muttered.

This was going to be another long afternoon.

“How come Samuel doesn’t have to attend these functions?” I complained as we neared the entrance.

“Because a roomful of werewolf alphas and the heads of vampire clans is bound to end in bloodshed,” Victoria said curtly.

“Victoria is right,” Pearl said. “They tried it once.”

I grimaced. “What happened?”

“Look up the Amberford Fire of 1872,” Caroline said.

A handsome doorman in a tailcoat bowed and opened the door as we approached, his scent marking him as fae.

We stepped inside a grand foyer with a checkered marble floor, crystal chandeliers, and gilt-framed mirrors. Uniformed staff stood behind an ancient, solid oak counter to the left, their voices quiet as they spoke on phones and to the smartly dressed guests checking in. Soft, classical music drifted from somewhere.

The air was thick with the scents of supernatural creatures, money, and expensive perfume.

A concierge with sharp canines came over, his face wreathed in a smile. “Mrs. Hawthorne, Caroline, it’s a pleasure to see you both.” He pressed his lips to the back of Victoria’s hand and air-kissed Caroline before beaming at Pearl. “You look spectacular.”

Pearl nodded regally. “Jean-Pierre.”

The vampire’s curious gaze landed on me. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your companion.”

Victoria made introductions. “This is Abigail West. She is the new Hawthorne luna and my future daughter-in-law.”

Caroline’s eyes widened fractionally. I nearly swallowed my tongue.

It was the first time Victoria had referred to me as her daughter-in-law.

Ears pricked around the foyer.

Curious fascination lit up the vampire’s eyes. It faded a little when he spotted Bo.

“And who’s this charming dog?” Jean-Pierre asked politely.

Pearl’s tail swung lazily. “This is Bo, a new member of the Hawthorne pack. He’s my protégé.”

Bo stood up proudly so he could show off his bow tie.

To his credit, the vampire’s smile didn’t crack. “I shall show you to the afternoon tea salon.”

We followed him down a corridor lined with suits of armor to a vast room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the hotel’s manicured grounds and the lake. Tables set with fine bone china and silver tea services occupied strategic positions across the floor. A bevy of supernatural creatures in designer clothes sat talking in low voices around them. Most were women but there were men here and there.

The noise level dropped when the socialites clocked our entrance. I became the focus of dozens of cool stares.

Helen was holding court at one of the tables. Her lip curled at the sight of me. She whispered to one of her companions.

“Wonderful,” Caroline muttered.

“You said it,” I murmured.

“Be nice, both of you,” Victoria warned under her breath.

Jean-Pierre handed us over to a waiter who guided us to a table by the window. Martha Claymore and Felicity Newfield were already seated at it. They wore matching floral dresses that brightened the room.

“Hello, Abby,” Martha said in a friendly voice. Felicity nodded warmly.

“Hi, Martha, Felicity.” I sat down gingerly while Victoria and Caroline exchanged greetings with the elderly werewolves, conscious of the stares we were attracting.

I was glad Victoria had chosen my outfit for the function.

The dark silk pantsuit I wore was cut perfectly and molded to my curves in flattering lines. The silk blouse underneath was a shade of cream that matched my complexion. Even my usually unruly hair had cooperated with Caroline’s painstaking ministrations that afternoon and fell in soft, enchanting waves around my face.

“At least you don’t look like you rolled in dirt today,” Pearl had commented after Caroline’s makeover.

Coming from her, that had been high praise indeed.

Martha leaned over presently.

“Rumor has it you were involved in a nefarious incident in the Crossroads yesterday,” she hissed conspiratorially.

I grimaced. “Did Camilla tattle?”

Martha gave me a blank look. “Camilla?”

“Yeah, she was there yesterday.”

Martha and Felicity exchanged a puzzled glance.

“Remember,” Pearl told Bo as she settled on a chair with a special cushion that brought her to the height of the table. “One does not lap from the saucer.”

“What about the cup?” Bo asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not.”

I was busy pretending to study the menu and ignoring the stares burning into my face when Victoria straightened beside me. I followed her gaze to the middle-aged vampire couple who had just entered the salon. Their clothes looked like they cost more than my rent.

“That’s Gregory and Constantia Tremaine,” Victoria explained quietly. “They own most of the properties in the East End.”

“And half the banks in Amberford,” Caroline murmured. “They’re the top vampire clan in town,” she added at my curious look.

The Tremaines headed toward a table hosting a group of vampires. Gregory’s nostrils flared slightly as they passed us. He inclined his head politely.

“Victoria.”

“Gregory.”

Crimson gleamed briefly in Constantia’s cool eyes as her gaze skimmed over me.

I spotted more Council members arriving. Priscilla and Isobel were among them, both wearing dark outfits. They acknowledged us with curt nods and crossed the room to their seats three tables over.

“The witches are fashionably late as usual,” Felicity observed as three women in couture outfits materialized near the entrance.

“The Lincoln sisters,” Victoria said for my benefit. “They control the supernatural clinics in and around Amberford. Oh, and that’s Portia O’Keefe. She’s the head of the Amberford banshees.”

“They’re not the biggest clan, but what they lack in numbers they make up for in volume,” Martha said. She winked and nudged me in the ribs. “Get it?”

“The floor got it, Martha,” Felicity groaned.

More socialites arrived, their names soon a blur. I was wishing Mindy had come along to organize some kind of visual map of the who’s who of the Amberford supernatural society when Camilla walked in.

“She doesn’t look well,” Caroline observed with a faint frown.

The Council secretary was pale and appeared a little flustered, like she hadn’t been sleeping well.

I wondered if this had to do with her nervous disposition or the fact that she regularly dealt with Council members who acted like vipers. I was about to ask the question when I felt Victoria and Caroline tense.

A middle-aged werewolf with graying red hair piled up in a chignon had swept into the salon after Camilla. She was dressed in an elegant outfit and was accompanied by two women who looked and smelled like her daughters.

I stared.

The sisters were tall and built along the same lean lines as Caroline.

“What are they doing here?” Martha muttered.

“Who are they?” I asked curiously.

Caroline shot a worried glance at Victoria. “The Luptons.”

Ah. More drama.