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Julian
We’ve been monitoring the perimeter around Marcellus’s estate. It’s not much smaller than Bellamy Manor, having been passed down by our father’s brother, Burl Bellamy, five centuries ago. Massive iron gates bar the entrance, but the surrounding area is lined with ten-foot-tall hedges, making access easy as long as guards aren’t stationed around the grounds.
My brother has never been one for security. Whether it’s from sheer ignorance or complacency, I haven’t decided. Above all else, Marcellus values his solitude. I only hope that tonight, that holds true and this place is unguarded.
The manor sits on top of a hill, dark and imposing. Not a single light glows through the many windows along the front, giving it the appearance of being abandoned. If Marcellus was tipped off, it likely is.
Law is on the west side of the property accompanied by Westoff, Simone, and Huntley, along with each of their three details. Byron, Franc, LaSalle, and two additional guards are with me on the east side. Alabaster and Sagar set off for home before we left Bellamy Manor, neither of them fit to come with us on this mission. Alabaster is clumsy and slow, and Sagar is overweight and thus slow as well. We needed the element of surprise if it were possible, and the two of them would only draw attention to us.
“What do you think?” Count LaSalle asks, keeping his eyes trained on the manor ahead.
“Either he was tipped off, or this is an ambush. Either way, I don’t like it,” I admit.
“We should’ve left earlier,” Byron bemoans from my left. “He had too much time to escape.”
My eyes narrow in on the short-statured man with greasy black hair. With the benefit of darkness shrouding us, my examination of him likely has gone unnoticed, but I don’t give a shit either way. I don’t trust him, and no amount of feigned support will convince me otherwise. If Marcellus was tipped off, it was him that did it.
“What’s the plan, Julian?” Count Franc chimes in.
“We wait a few more minutes. If my brother has any type of security, it’s likely a border spell.”
“Witches.” LaSalle says the word as though it’s blasphemy.
“And it’s witches that shall save your hides,” Shante calls from behind.
“Madame Shante, you came.”
She bows her head. “For you.”
“Do you sense any barrier spell?” I ask, jumping right into it. I don’t want to waste any more time.
“No. No barrier spell.” She inhales deeply. “But something is amiss here. Did Marina join you here?”
“No. She’s back at Bellamy Manor. Why?”
In the dark it’s hard to make out her features, but I see her lips form a tight line and her eyes scrunch in concentration.
“I feel her energy. It’s pulsing through the air.”
A loud caw sounds above our heads and a massive bird, that at first glance appears to be Mosely, swoops down at our heads. It lands on the top of one of the hedges, peering down at us.
“Interesting,” Shante muses.
“What’s interesting?” Shante has been an incredible ally through everything, but one issue I always have with her is the riddles she never quite clarifies. It’s always bothered me, but in this moment it does so much more. We can’t go into Marcellus’s domain ill prepared, and if she knows something, she needs to speak up. It’s why I brought her here.
“Shante,” I warn, and she raises her hand to halt whatever is coming next.
“I’m concentrating, Julian. I need silence.”
It takes everything in me to stay rooted in place and not say a word. The time we’ve spent here is only giving Marcellus more time to either escape or lay out a counterattack. My hope had been that the element of surprise would lead to fewer—or no—casualties.
The counts are growing restless too. I’m sure Shante’s presence has them all on edge. It’s not often vampires work with witches. They haven’t been the most trustworthy over the centuries, but Shante is different. She’s been a trusted advisor to our family from day one, ever since she saved us from her sister, Yvette. That’s a story that I’ll one day need Shante to tell, as I was too young and immature at the time for my father to confide in.
“What is she doing?” Byron grates. “We’re wasting time here.”
“Quiet,” she growls at the man, before turning to me. “Black magic is seeping from this place, Julian. It’s stale, but it still lingers.”
“Will it stop us from entering?” I ask.
