Page 18 of Mortdale

Logan finally opened the door again, his palms resting against my ribs as he helped me off the carriage. “Welcome to Mortdale,” he said, pulling back from me, his hands gathering in fists at his sides.

The sour reminder struck me then. He was a vampire, and I was a witch. To his kind, my existence was an abomination, and now we were bonded for eternity. He’d probably been forced into this marriage just as much as I’d been.

A shiver travelled down my spine as I spun around, taking in the garden under the blue glow of night. I was almost certain that I’d died on the way to where I was actually meant to be taken and I’d arrived in some sort of foggy paradise.

“Come,” he said, bringing me out of the dazed haze the flowers dressed in dew had cast over me. “It’s been a long day for you.”

I hurried to match his long strides. “About average, I’d say. They brought me this huge troll once, about the size—” My lips clamped shut when he slowly turned to look at me over his shoulder. “Maybe it has really been a long day.”

The scent of leather and vetiver grew severe when we stepped into the dark wooden-floored foyer. The decor was minimal; impersonal, almost. All furniture was in various shades of mahogany and blackwood, matching the floors. Three men in uniform and an older woman waited inside the dark entrance lit by the warm light of the chandeliers that only cast more darkness over the many paintings hung on the wall, and made the white lace curtains over the massive arched windows appear like ghastly spirits. All four stood so very still that I had to squint a little to see if they were even breathing at all. For a moment I wondered if they were part of the decor. Maybe my strange husband had taken to taxidermying humans in his spare time.

“This is Christof,” Logan said, and the eldest out of the three men marched a few steps forward, making me jump back a little and grab hold of my husband’s sleeve. “My butler,” he clarified, looking strangely at me and where I’d clung to him.

“Congratulations on your marriage, sire,” the old man curtly said, bowing his head to my husband and then to me. “My lady.”

Logan stretched his neck side to side, breathing out a sigh. “If you have any requests at all, you may call for him. Rupert and Edwin work around the house, along with Theodora, who is the cook.”

“You have a cook?” I whispered to him. “What does she cook?”

Logan’s eyes flashed, and a shade of amusement crossed his features despite the graveness that still gripped his gaze. “Food. Stews and salads and more things of that sort.”

“Oh.” I nodded, still very much confused. I was not an encyclopaedia for vampires, but I was fairly sure vampires did not eat.

As the new lady of the house, Marilla had warned me to present myself a certain way. The more appropriately I behaved, the more he’d let me blend out in society and investigate the murder of Harriet and the other girls.

Theodora’s eyes softened as she gently cupped my face, turning it side to side to inspect me. “Oh, aren’t you just darling!”

I tried hard not to shrink under her perusal. “I’m not sick,” I told her. “Not contagious either.”

“No one asked,” Logan said impatiently, grabbing my arm. “You’ve seen enough. I’ll take you up to your room.”

Though my maidenhood was very much intact, I knew what marriage entailed; Blood Pact or no Blood Pact. In fact, the whole idea of the Blood Pact revolved around the procreation between a witch and a vampire. I was meant to pop out some healthy and powerful blood-sucking heirs for him. Surely the lord wanted children to secure his inheritance of the Duncan bloodline. And I couldn’t exactly tell him that I was fairly sure I’d be dead by then, so I let him drag me away.

For a manor with such a haunting air, there were surprisingly no signs of any residential ghosts. That was terrible news. I relied on ghosts for gossip. They were terrific spies.

“I will have Christof bring you dinner here for tonight. He sleeps a floor below us, in case you need anything. Just ring the bell for him.”

And now I was going to dine on my own, too, it seemed.

He waited there for some reason, staring dead straight at me.

Blinking fast, I leaned in to whisper, “What is it?”

“Give me confirmation you’re in agreement to that. I can’t read your mind.”

“I am not in agreement. How about taking me back now?”

The wooden floor screamed and groaned at his weight as he marched to my side, towering over me. “How about I lock you in the basement for the night?”

I blinked once. “Fantastic. Lead the way.” Maybe there was a ghost or two down there who could give me some information about his stuck-up lord-self.

His gilded eyes pinched with the most questioning glare. “Are you always this impossible?”

Smiling at him, I said, “Nonsense. I am positively possible all the time.” I grabbed his sleeve when he pulled away. “Where are you going?”

His attention dropped to my hand again. “To check on my men.”

“And after?”