Vampire Debt - Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,1

coffin.

Fair enough.

Straightening my blazer, I circled my head in an attempt to loosen the tension in my neck. Not happening.

Dropping my chin, my gaze landed on those in the front row—not a single one of them under sixty-five.

Sir Olythieu’s lips twitched.

Mrs Syrre choked on a snort.

My mouth curved.

A whoop went up. Mr Dithis and Lady Treena held each other up.

Laughter bubbled up my throat.

Tommy’s father, Mr Tetley, clutched his stomach, tears rolling down his face—tears I suspected weren’t purely from mirth.

I supported myself on my grandmother’s coffin as I doubled over, gasping for air between soul-shaking bouts of laughter.

“That was fucking perfect,” Mr Hothen howled.

Dame Burke wasn’t amused. “Those cunts. Closing in on Basilia like that.” Being from Australia, cunt was her favourite word—to the constant horror of strangers within listening distance.

Sir Olythieu, owner of Bluff City Bank, used his cane to push to his feet. “They tried. Our Basilia told them where to go.”

“Best funeral ever,” Lady Treena said, raising her token glass of champagne in salute.

Fred, my grandmother’s butler, approached at a staid pace. The familiar grey-haired man had never lost his military training. He’d read stories to me as a child and always protected my family.

He wasn’t laughing.

My smile faded as Fred took my hand and kissed it, his brush moustache itching the skin there. The last time he blurred professional lines like this was twelve years ago when my parents died.

He met my gaze, brown eyes filled with unshed tears, and I tensed as the burning behind my eyes surged anew.

Not today. Not here.

“Your grandmother would have loved that,” Fred murmured, squeezing my hand. “She adored you so much, Miss Le Spyre. Everything she did was for you.”

And there it was—the moment I’d been waiting for.

He’d just said my real name aloud.

For a month, I’d been Miss Tetley. And for good reason.

Unaware of what he’d just done, Fred tugged me into his arms. I went, resting my head against his familiar chest, inhaling his soap smell. Part of me had held out hope Kyros wouldn’t discover the truth via the guards who followed me everywhere. That hope disintegrated as I swayed gently in the butler’s wiry embrace.

“I’m sorry I had to discuss funeral plans via email,” I murmured.

“I understand why you had to.”

I drew away. You do?

“Talking about death aloud can be difficult.” Fred continued, deflating my hope all over again. “Makes things more real somehow.”

“Right,” I replied softly, nodding to mask my crushing disappointment.

He held me at arm’s length. “Are you coming back to the estate after the burial?”

I’d run from the estate a month ago, and ironically there was no place I’d rather be right now. “I can’t come yet, Fred,” I answered. “It’s too painful.”

Not a total lie.

I wasn’t sure I could bear to see her suite—the place she died. I’d have to walk through the halls, the kitchen, and the lavender tiers where we’d shared so many beautiful memories that seemed so impersonal and cold now she wasn’t here to share more with me.

Really, my return to the estate depended on how Kyros intended to use my fortune when my guards reported back after the funeral. Maybe they were on the phone to him right now. While most of my regular crew hung around the perimeter of the botanical gardens on constant lookout for the Tonyi triplets, Laurel hadn’t budged when I’d requested she also linger out of earshot.

Fred’s eyes misted. “Of course, Miss Le Spyre. I hope to see you at the estate very soon.”

“In the meantime, could you please make sure everything is cared for?”

Fred swallowed hard, his voice hoarse when he said, “You don’t even need to ask.”

Throat constricting, I turned back to my grandmother’s coffin, feeling his grip on me fall away.

Her coffin was white with silver handles and covered in lavender. None of the trimmings changed that my last family member was now contained in a wooden box.

How can that be right?

I’d forced myself to look upon her embalmed body before the casket was sealed. She’d been a virtual stranger to me with her eyes closed. Whoever saw people with their eyes closed like that? It wasn’t a thought I’d had before that moment, but something that unsettled me greatly until I peeked under the silk blanket covering her legs and spotted her wrinkled hands.

Her hands, I knew.

My grandmother was in the casket.

She was dead.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the powerful scent of lavender invading my senses.

The remaining guests squeezed my shoulders, whispering their hollow goodbyes to