Vampire Bodyguard by Katalina Leon

Author:Katalina Leon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vampire, 1940s, Old Hollywood, romantic suspense, Crime noir, Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Katalina Leon
Published: 2018-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Dorin led the way up a flight of stone steps. The ascent brought them to a gothic alcove sheltering a massive wooden door that appeared hearty enough to resist the most determined assault by battering ram. Iron spikes reinforced the unwelcoming nature of the fortresslike entrance. The only thing missing was the moldering skeleton of a political rival chained to the wall.

“Homey,” Rory said under his breath.

Madelyn giggled.

“What did you say?” Dorin leered. “I didn’t quit hear you.”

“I said roomy,” he lied. “You have plenty of room.”

“I certainly do!” Dorin grasped an oversized iron handle and pushed the door open. “The castle has sixty rooms, if you count the servants’ quarters, which I do.” He motioned for Madelyn to enter. “Ladies first.” He stood aside for Rory. “Gentlemen second.” One glance at Hank and he bit down on his lip. “And what shall we do with you?”

Hank bumbled past. “You could start by getting me a drink.” Taking in the grandeur, he rolled his eyes toward the frescoed ceiling, painted with snowy peaks and forests. “Are those the Rocky Mountains?”

“No.” Dorin drew his lips taut. “The Carpathians.”

“Too bad.” Hank shrugged. “I’d like to the see the Rockies someday, and I’ll take a bourbon if you have it.”

Dorin turned his back and led everyone down a long hallway stuffed with antique tables and portraits of bearded and beady-eyed characters donning clerical robes. “My brethren.” He pointed to a row of dour-faced monks in brown sackcloth. “Each a disowned and defrocked priest. Unjustly disgraced in life, I have given them a place of honor in my castle.”

Rory glanced at Madelyn. She looked back, but he couldn’t read her expression. What did she think of all this? Was this business as usual in her world, or was something seriously off? He couldn’t shake the feeling that they had willingly walked into a trap.

Pausing in front of one portrait of a particularly hoary-looking man with a white goatee, Hank stopped. “What does defrocked mean?”

Dorin appeared irritated by Hank’s lingering. “On occasion, for just—or more often unjust—reasons, the clergy will overlook its own hypocrisy, declare a fellow priest a heretic, and cast him out of sacred orders.”

Hank made a rude puffing sound. “I thought they only kicked out perverts.”

“That too.” Dorin gestured for everyone to resume walking. “Please, may we move on? I am anxious to view the contents of the case, and no doubt you want your money.”

“Hell ya.” Hank shuffled forward.

They came to a spacious room, furnished with heavy carved chairs that looked like they required at least two footmen to budge them, and an oversized rustic table that could seat several dozen diners. A broad fireplace wide and tall enough to roast an ox dominated the far wall. A bar, generously stocked with hundreds of bottles of liquor in every color and shape imaginable, filled a second wall.

Dorin patted the countertop of the bar. “Help yourselves.”

Madelyn’s hand grazed Rory’s sleeve. “Would you like a brandy? I’m having one.”

“Sure.” He did not

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