Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Roman ran off to change, and I opened the big heavy door.
“Daddy! Happy birthday!” I let him and Mamma in, giving them both hugs.
“Thank you, darlin’,” he said. “Everyone else will be here in a minute. Maybell insisted on drivin’.”
“Uh-oh. Get ready to turn some humans tonight,” I joked. Maybell had just bought her first car. A used Suburban. It was only a matter of time before she killed someone.
“Let’s get you drinks while we wait,” I said.
Mamma and Daddy followed me to the living room with modern white furniture, too sterile for my taste, and murals of clouds and angels on the ceiling. They sort of gave me the heebies.
I poured Mamma some spiked sweet tea, and Daddy some wine.
“Mmmm…1980. I can almost taste the volcanic eruption,” Daddy said after a sip.
“That’s right. Mount Saint Helens,” I said. “You do have a nose.”
“Master taught me everything I know—”
“Honey.” Mamma elbowed Daddy.
What was it with Daddy’s maker? He’d left me this house, but no one wanted to talk about him.
“Why does everyone act all weird when Daddy’s maker is brought up?” I asked.
Roman sauntered into the room wearing an orange tuxedo.
I rolled my eyes. Wrong decade, buddy.
“Are we discussing Montgomery Stark?” Roman asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m asking them why no one wants to talk about Daddy’s maker.”
“Yeah, Stark,” Roman said. “I heard they just caught him. He’s down in the jail.”
“Roman!” Daddy barked. “You idiot. Shut your trap, or I will shut it for you.”
“Daddy?” I blinked. “What’s going on?”
Everyone went silent.
I huffed. “Okay. Fine. I’ll just ask the man myself. Where’s this jail?” I asked Roman.
“Do not—” Daddy growled at Roman.
“Daddy, Roman has sworn allegiance to me. Are you tellin’ him to break his vow?”
“Downstairs,” Roman barked out. “Your jail is downstairs.”
“Excuse me? You mean the wine cellar?” I said.
“The other downstairs,” Mamma said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
How did I, the vampire queen, have catacombs underneath my own house and not know about it? It made me wonder what other things were being kept from me.
“Roman,” I said as I followed him down a spiral staircase hidden under a trapdoor in the basement’s wine cellar, “I want names. I want to know who’s been keeping secrets and why?”
“Yes, my queen,” he said glumly.
We entered a long tunnel with dim lighting and pools of shallow water. To each side were sets of bars.
What is this place? I mean, I knew it was a jail, but what was it doing here?
“Stark! Montgomery Stark! Where are you?” I called out.
“He’s in the last cell.” Roman pointed to the very end of the tunnel.
I marched down, noting that the cells were all empty. Good. It meant there was room for more traitors once we caught them.
I stopped at the last cell, finding a hunched-over form huddled in the dark corner toward the back. I couldn’t see his face.
“You Stark?” I asked.
After a moment, the vampire answered, “Yes, my queen.”
Strange. I knew that voice from somewhere. “Have we met?”
“No,” he replied.
I sensed he was lying, and that was something I couldn’t tolerate. We had work to do. Important work. There was no time to waste on scum who wanted to destroy our world. “I’m going to give you one opportunity to tell the truth, Mr. Stark. Because like Grandpappy used to say, possums will be possums. They can’t help it if they have a pouch.”
“A pouch?” he asked.
“Yeah. To hide their young’uns—what they care about.”
A low chuckle erupted from the dark corner, and I could swear I knew that laugh.
“Show me your face, Mr. Stark.”
“I am afraid I cannot do that. Your secret army broke both my legs,” he said.
“Oh. Well, sorry about that, but they have their orders.” Plus, he’d heal once he fed, so it wasn’t exactly a big deal.
“Indeed.”
I raised my chin. “I’ll tell them to bring some blood if you tell me the truth. Are you my Daddy’s maker?”
“No.”
“So you’re not the vampire who used to own this place?” I asked.
“No.”
I didn’t believe him. Something was going on here. “And why won’t you go to the island?” I asked.
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“I cannot tell you,” he replied.
This conversation was going nowhere. “All right. Have it your way.” I turned to Roman. “Put him in the next round of executions.”
Roman bowed his head. “Yes, my queen. With pleasure.”
I made my way back upstairs. Maybe not today, but I would get my answers. Sadly, it would have to wait until after Daddy’s birthday and the state fair. We were hosting it and launching a new whiskey flavor with walnuts. A fall flavor I’d come up with out of the blue.
How will I possibly get it all done? I smiled contentedly and made it to the living room just in time to hear something crash into the front door.
My parents and I rushed to see what had happened.
“Jesus!” Mamma yelled.