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I pause, eyes narrowing on the letters on the side of the vessel, “The Albanian Princess,” I murmur, my skin erupting with a bad case of goosebumps.
Blaire follows my gaze, snorting when she spots the yacht. “Goddess, are you kidding me? I wonder how much that person paid to have that monstrosity painted pig’s butt pink?”
“You’ve always hated pink,” I murmur, distracted by thoughts of pink villas on the Albanian Riviera and the bad vampire allegedly living in one.
What are the chances said vampire would also have a pink yacht named the Albanian Princess?
I’m guessing pretty damned good.
“That’s because pink is infantilizing and gross and—” Blaire breaks off with an indignant cry. “Where are you going?”
“I need to check on something,” I say, backing up the pier. “I’ll be at the bar in ten, fifteen minutes tops.” I glance back at the boat and my stomach flips a silent warning. Turning back to Blaire, I add in a softer voice, “And if I’m not, you can tell the authorities I was last seen snooping around a big pink boat.”
“Like hell you were,” Blaire says. “I’m coming with you. You’ve forgotten the first rule of being a Wonderfully, Cassandra Chamomile, first of her name.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, secretly relieved she’s decided to join me.
“We don’t do stupid things alone,” Blaire says. “We do them together, as the Goddess intended.” She sighs. “This is a stupid thing, right?”
“Probably,” I say. “I think Darcy and Edmond’s maker might be on that boat.”
“Priscilla?” Blaire’s eyes go wide. “She never comes to Nightfall. Darcy says she hates it here.”
“Well, she might hate me more,” I say. “And she might not be happy that Edmond and I are engaged. Like…really not happy.”
Blaire curses beneath her breath. “Great. Well, at least it’s daylight. As long as we don’t head down into the hold with her, we should be okay. For now.” She squeezes my arm. “But once this is over and we’re not dead, you have some explaining to do.”
I pull in a breath that becomes a sharp cry of surprise as a small, solid, and slightly stinky form appears in our path as if by magic.
“No, you don’t,” Herbish says, pausing to cough into her elbow before pointing a firm, motherly finger at first my face and then Blaire’s. “You girls aren’t going anywhere near that floating death trap. Not while Herbish still has breath in her old goblin body.”
Chapter Seven
EDMOND
Not two hours after I close my eyes, I wake from my rest with a start, electrified by the certainty that something’s wrong.
I reach for my cell to call Charles, the estate manager on duty. He has eyes and ears on most of the property through our surveillance system and has been my man on the inside for years. I’ve been paying Charles to keep me in the know for so long, we’ve become dear friends. I was present at the christening of his now grown children, and he even asked me to be the best man at his second wedding.
He’s in his late sixties, but as keenly observant as ever. If something’s going sideways on the estate, he’ll be the first to know about it.
“All clear,” he answers, not bothering with small talk—another thing I love about the man. “Amy and Casey are watching a movie in their room, Darcy is resting after his long night with the traitor, and all’s quiet in the house.”
“Thank you,” I say, but his words don’t take the edge off the way they usually would. “What about Baron and Annie?”
“They’re down at the playground he built for their daughter by the bowling lanes. Looks like the baby loves the swing as much as Amy does.”
“Good, good,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair as I slide my legs from under the covers. I won’t be resting any more today. The uneasy feeling is too strong. Might as well get up and make myself useful. Which reminds me, “Is the dog ready to be interviewed?”
“Let me check.” The line falls silent for a moment before Charles hops back on. “Yep, she’s kenneled in interrogation room two. She bit the handler who tucked her in last night, though, so you might want to put on a pair of thick jeans and your leather gloves before you head down. The wee beast only has three teeth, but she knows what to do with them.”
“Noted. Thank you, Charles.”
“My pleasure, Eddy. And congratulations on the engagement, by the way. Casey seems like a great lady. Real sweet with her baby, but tough when she needs to be. She won’t take shit from any of the reprobates around here. You won’t have to worry about her when you’re gone.”
He means gone on business—as the clan diplomat, I travel more than any other clan member—but his words hit that already tender place in my chest, making my voice rough as I say, “But you’ll watch over her anyway. Just in case.”
“Of course, I will,” he says. “Like my own daughter. You can count on me, Eddy.”
