Death Becomes Him - 20

Now, how do I get to the chateau? There doesn’t seem to be any way to let them know I’m here.

“Who are you, and why should you be allowed inside the gate?”

Trent barely repressed a shout of fear when the speaker suddenly appeared at the other side of the gate. Swallowing hard, he replied, “My name is Trent Dickens. I’m a—friend of Rory Mathieu.”

As quickly as the vampire, for Trent knew he had to be one, had appeared, he vanished again.

Now what? Do I stand here and wait for him to return, or try scaling the wall and hope there’s no sharp things on the top of it?

“There are.” The vampire had returned. “The mistress says you may enter.” With those words, he opened the gate. “Follow me.”

Trent gave a mocking salute, behind the vampire’s back, and trailed along after him to the chateau. They walked up a steep flight of stone steps to a heavy oak door. It opened as if on some command, and Trent had the feeling his escort had let whoever was inside know they were there. It turned out to be another male who disappeared seconds later.

The entry hall was vast, with gray stone walls and large oak doors. At the far end was a long, curving staircase to the second floor. As Trent watched, a slender, blonde-haired woman appeared at the top, almost gliding as she came down the stairs and across the hall to where he stood.

“Welcome to my home,” she said, her deep amber eyes looking him over with what he hoped was approval. “I’m Emily Carpenter and,” she smiled up at him as she couldn’t have been more than five-foot one or two, “you, I understand, are Rory’s friend, Trent.”

Trent resisted the urge to bow as he replied, “I am.” He glanced quickly back to the stairs, hoping against hope to see Rory coming down them. He wasn’t.

Emily smiled, resting one hand on his arm. “He’s just waking up. He should join us in a few minutes.”

“Then he is here.” Trent felt his pulse speed up at the thought he’d soon be seeing Rory.

“He’d better be, or you’ll be one very disappointed young man.” Emily grinned as she led him into a room on the right side of the hall. It was small and cozy, or as cozy as a room with stone walls could be, Trent supposed. A fire burned cheerfully in the fireplace that took up all of one of the narrower walls. In front of it, facing each other, were two surprisingly modern looking sofas separated by a long coffee table. Emily pointed to one sofa and they sat. Seconds later a young woman appeared in the doorway. Emily asked what Trent would like to drink.

“Coffee, if you have it,” he replied.

“Of course we do. The house, the chateau, may be old but we’re quite up-to-date as far as amenities go. That includes the best coffee-maker available. Would you prefer regular or espresso?”

“Regular would be fine, thank you.”

Emily repeated his request to what Trent presumed was the maid, despite her casual attire of black slacks and a turquoise blouse. “As for myself,” Emily said, “I think a glass of Malbec red wine. Would you like something to eat, Trent? Dinner, a sandwich, cheese and crackers?”

Trent chuckled. “I’ve been eating sandwiches all day, but cheese and crackers sounds good.”

With a nod, the young woman left.