Taking the pen, I gestured for Claude to turn, then pressed the paper against his back and signed my name with a slight flourish.
“Well,” Claude murmured after I handed him the signed contract. “Congratulations, Miss Laurent. You now own…” He hesitated and glanced up at the sad excuse for my bar. “…this.”
I beamed. “Thank you, Claude. Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
He winced but gave a polite nod. “You’ll need permits to reopen, of course. And an inspection. The council must also approve—standard for all new businesses,” he added quickly, like I might accuse him of targeting me specifically. “And you’ll want to deal with…the prior tenants.”
I lifted a haughty brow and gave him the kind of look my father used to use when someone dared to serve him lukewarm blood. “Come again?”
Claude shifted uncomfortably. “The unresolved occupants.”
Ah. Understanding dawned.
“Ghosts,” I said.
Claude gave a tight smile. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat.
So, my new residence and business was haunted. Lovely. I supposed that explained the suspiciously low price tag attached to the building. And perhaps why the previous owner had been so eager to sell.
After a brief contemplation, I shrugged. Ghosts hardly frightened me. In the paranormal hierarchy, they ranked closer to pests, whereas I, a vampire, sat at the top. It wasn’t like they could harm me.
“One would assume Eternity Falls has specialists for such inconveniences?”
Claude nodded. “The Ravenspells.”
Of course. The local witch family. As this was my first night in Eternity Falls, I hadn’t yet met any of the Ravenspells, but their reputation preceded them. I’d heard a mixed combination of glowing praise, hushed warnings, and read one report about a local werewolf who had spontaneously lost all their fur. Most suspected a curse, but no one could confirm, because the wolf in question soon vanished from society.
The Ravenspells were one of three legacy families within Eternity Falls. The kind with deep roots, deeper pockets, and absolutely no interest in sharing power.
The other two families were the St. Germains, a vampire dynasty with old-money charm, and the Wolfes, a werewolf clan best described as equal parts scandal, brawl, and soap opera.
Together, the three families owned the town. And according to Claude, who’d happily informed me of all the power dynamics at play here, the rest of us were simply the background characters in their ongoing, century-spanning drama.
Not that I had any intention of playing along.
My family name might be in tatters, my fortune reduced to a number the bank laughed at, and my love life currently starred a villain, but I refused to let anyone cow me. I was a Laurent, no matter the current state of things. My family may never reclaim their standing in society, but that hardly meant I couldn’t make something of myself.
Starting here.
With this…haunted, half-rotted bar.
How hard could it be?
I reached for the door, ready to step bravely into this bold new chapter of my life, when a strange sound stopped me. Had Claude just…squeaked?
I paused, hand on the door, and glanced over my shoulder. Claude stood behind me, the poor thing’s hands tugging at his tie and smoothing his lapels—all nervous tics, I presumed.
“Is there a problem, Claude?” I asked.
Claude blinked rapidly. “I thought, perhaps, Miss Laurent, that it might be best if you waited until morning to—ah—enter.”
“The morning,” I repeated drolly.
He eagerly nodded.
“Mm-hmm. And where exactly do you suggest I stay until then?” I lifted my wrist up just enough for the soft moonlight to catch my watch. It was a vintage Cartier. A limited-edition Tank Louis with black sapphires and a blood-red leather strap. My mother had gifted me this beauty for my bicentennial birthday. Sadly, it was the only valuable possession I had left.
“Sunrise isn’t for another ten hours,” I said. Vampires weren’t affected by sunlight, but I certainly needed somewhere to sleep. “Where do you expect me to stay in the meantime?”
