Vanity and Vampyres by Tilly Wallace

Author:Tilly Wallace [Wallace, Tilly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ribbonwood Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

Wycliff conferred with the doctor while they awaited the arrival of Sir Hugh. The earl stood guard, watching their every move as though he expected them to commit some act of defilement upon his son’s remains. This young noble had met his end through a wound on his inner thigh, and had been drained via the femoral artery. The location, no doubt, had been why the earl objected to its exposure in front of Hannah.

Once Sir Hugh appeared, the two medical men compared findings while Wycliff conducted brief interviews with the staff. Then he supervised Lord Stoneleigh’s being laid upon the floor of the carriage. Sir Hugh sat with the corpse, to ensure he was not dislodged on his journey. Fortunately, Hannah’s father had used the buggy to rush to the scene, so Wycliff and Hannah used that conveyance to return to Westbourne Green.

Back at the gothic mansion, Frank moved the body, taking him in through the tunnel cut underground and that ran from the drive by the house straight to the laboratory level. Hannah fussed with the sheet and rearranged it so all of the deceased remained covered.

“I’ll begin the autopsy in the morning. A bit of natural light helps, to make sure I don’t miss anything.” Sir Hugh pointed to the long, narrow slits in one wall. The mage had installed a combination of mirrors and magic, to direct sunshine from outside through a series of tunnels to release itself into the laboratory.

“Might I have some time alone with the body?” Wycliff asked after Frank had lumbered up the stairs.

Sir Hugh’s attention rested on the draped remains. “Mind you don’t incinerate the chap, Wycliff. That would make an examination dashed difficult.”

“I shall keep my distance. I only want to see if his soul lingers.” He met his wife’s worried gaze. “I will tell you what I discover.”

Still she resisted leaving, until her father tugged on her arm and propelled her toward the door. “Come along, Hannah. Your mother is waiting upstairs.”

Once alone with the physical remains of Lord Stoneleigh, Wycliff moved to the far corner and away from any flammable materials and potions. He rested one hand on the stone wall and closed his eyes. Heat flared inside him like striking a flint, and it quickly raced along his veins. Keeping his eyes closed, he lowered his front paws to the cool flagstones underfoot and, drawing a deep breath, he scented death over his tongue. Opening the hound’s eyes, he stared at the body.

A dull grey mist filled the room, as though he stared through a light rain. The sheet shimmered ghostly white. But Wycliff alone stood in the room. No souls watched over the remains or sought his attention to point the finger at the murderer. Blast. There were a few possibilities as to why he found no trace of the soul. The man could have moved on already, or more likely, his soul might linger in the house where he died.

He leaned against the cool stone walls to let the chill seep into him and dispel the hellhound.

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