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“Sorry, Case, I forgot to get those books on the way,” Annie says, stifling another yawn. “But don’t worry. I’ll grab them tomorrow.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Baron says calmly. “You aren’t leaving the mansion until the threat has passed.”
“Except that I am because we’re going to need books to solve the problem,” Annie says. “Besides, Laura is staying in the catacombs until we go home. I’ll be protected by a guard bear the entire time I’m at the library, and I’ll ask one of the human guards to walk me there and back. I’ll not only be completely safe—I’ll also have help carrying the heavy stuff. It’s a win-win.”
“You’ll wait until nightfall, and I’ll take you myself,” Baron says.
“But I—”
“We don’t know who we can trust, Annie,” I cut in gently. “Maybe Sultan is the only traitor. Maybe not. Until we know for sure, we should rely only on our inner circle for support and protection.”
Casey looks up from the stroller, where she was tucking a blanket around a still-snoozing Amy. “Then why are we all moving to the compound? Wouldn’t we be safer at our house? At least we know we can trust everyone there.”
“But we wouldn’t be able to defend the mansion or our cottage in an attack,” Baron says. “If the Shadowbanes show up in force, they’ll burn our homes to the ground. The estate is more heavily fortified. And hopefully Sultan will give up the names of his co-conspirators, so we won’t have to watch our backs while we’re there.”
“If there are any,” Annie pipes up with another yawn. “All the other Blackmores are so nice. Well, except Janet and she’s already in prison.” She wrinkles her nose and snuggles closer to Baron’s side. “And Greg, but that’s not his fault really. All men named Greg are the worst. Remember Greg Abernathy, Case? From middle school? The one that picked his boogers and put them on the water fountain spout so no one could get a drink without being grossed out?”
“I do,” Casey replies, casting a quick glance over her shoulder before leaning in to whisper, “But I have a hunch there may be more bad apples in the bushel than we think. I was talking to someone tonight who seemed to think the Blackmores were about to go to war with themselves. That there was ‘rot’ at the clan’s core.”
I shift to face her. “Was it a goblin?” Casey blinks an unspoken question I answer with, “There was a smell lingering in the bar. A strong one.”
She hesitates a beat before she nods. “Yeah. Herbish Glowful stopped in. She had a lot of interesting things to say.”
“Herbish has an exceptionally low opinion of vampires,” Baron says, not sounding concerned. “It’s not surprising. The founding vampires kicked her and her sons out of the caves near the estate when they decided to build there and forcibly relocated the goblins to the damp ones near the ocean. Even a goblin prefers a dry place to make their bed.”
“And how would she know what’s going on at the estate?” Annie asks. “I’ve never seen a goblin at any of the Blackmore events.” She sits up straighter, turning to Baron with wide eyes. “You aren’t leaving them out on purpose, are you? Like the mean girls at school who never invited us to their birthday parties because they said we smelled bad?”
“To be fair, goblins do smell bad when they drink,” Casey says. “It’s pretty horrific. I almost threw up a couple times while Herbish and I were chatting.”
I narrow my eyes Casey’s way. “But you kept serving her?”
She shrugs and replies in an almost too-casual tone, “It was a slow night. Figured I might as well since I was the only one suffering the consequences.” She glances back to Annie. “But that stink would clear out a party pretty fast, so don’t be too hard on the Blackmores.”
“The goblins are always invited to our town-wide events,” Baron says. “But they choose not to attend. As I said, there’s bad blood there and goblins excel at two things—holding a grudge and holding their liquor.”
“And to answer your question, Annie, no, I don’t see how Herbish would have knowledge of our clan’s inner workings,” I add. “Especially not lately. We’ve all been playing our cards close to the vest since the estate plans were stolen last winter.”
Casey mumbles something beneath her breath but before I can ask her to repeat herself, the tram arrives at the upper platform. Baron rises with the baby in one arm and grabs the handle of a massive rolling steamer trunk with the other. He catches me watching him lift the luggage and shoots a sheepish look my way.
“The baby,” he grumbles. “She has a lot of…paraphernalia.”
“So much,” Annie agrees, motioning toward her backpack. “I could only fit half of it in the enchanted bag before it started shooting off sparks. I figured I should stop pushing my luck before I broke Blaire’s spell.” She pats Baron affectionately on the back. “But thankfully Baron’s been working out, right babe?”
“As if I would waste my time with anything so ridiculous,” he mutters, making Annie smile.
“Aw, there he is,” she says, kissing his cheek. “There’s my Mr. Grumpus. I’ve missed your grouchy side. It’s so much fun to tease you until you get mad and then spend hours making up.”
Baron grunts, his jaw clenching as he fights a smile. “Hush, woman.”
Annie breezes past him, her eyes dancing. “Or what? You’ll only make up with me for two hours instead of three?”
He rolls his eyes our way. “I apologize for my wife.”
“You forgot to add ‘horny’ in there,” Annie tosses over her shoulder. “You should apologize for your horny wife.”
Baron actually blushes at that—not an easy feat for a vampire. But by the time Annie reaches the front steps leading into the mansion, he’s passed the trunk off to a servant, directed the nanny waiting at the door to take Aurora, and scooped Annie up in his arms. He carries her, giggling, into the house, leaving Casey, Amy, and I alone on the front lawn.
I start toward the entrance, but Casey stays put. When I turn back to her, her knuckles are white on the stroller handle.
