They passed a strained glance between them as Rider and Mike pried the tomb open. Thick cobwebs blocked the entrance and something unseen skittered in a dark corner. They covered their mouths against the musty, dank smell. Within minutes, Big Mike had broken the coffin covering off with a drum anchor and chime chisel. Bones and frayed pieces of fabric greeted them once they removed the lid, but thankfully nothing moved.
"Y'all, not trying to be funny or nothing, but, this is no place for a guy with a sensitive nose." Rider had his hands over his nose and mouth, a stake clamped under his armpit.
"This isn't his lair," Damali murmured. "He's too smart for that - we should have known. I don't smell or sense him either."
"Okay, then, let's go. I'm convinced - curiosity is satisfied. Let's go home now."
They walked out of the vault, this time not arguing with Rider's insistence that they get the hell out of there. As soon as they cleared the crypt, Rider hawked and spit again.
"Have you any idea what places like this do to an olfactory sensor?"
"Yeah, I do, but can you stop with the hawking? Dag, between the toilet seats left up all the time, and the spitting thing, eeew," Damali said, finally taking a real breath.
"Like I said, we all need some personal space." Rider shrugged. "We each have our little foibles, but did you smell anything? My nose is full of stinky shit."
"I didn't smell a hint of sulfur in there. Probably will be like that in the mansion, too - if it isn't a tourist stop, or sold to a family or something. Before my Dad hunted him, he might have kept residence here - but knowing Nuit, like all vamps, he moved his operation to high ground when he came back. I really should have thought about that part more."
"But, Mar said that Blood Music owned this property - so something might be up with it." Big Mike walked a distance away, got still, listened, and then shook his head.
"Yeah," Rider conceded. "I guess we had to check. We'd all look pretty stupid if we hadn't, and the bastard was so arrogant that he'd gone right back to the most obvious place - faking us out because we wouldn't think he'd be here. Fine, people. Let's do this fast."
After a short walk, they found the rental car and climbed into it again.
"He probably willed the mansion back to himself, so that he could still keep it, like all his other holdings." Damali's grip tightened on the wheel. "There's something about this place, though. It's nearby - I can feel it. Gut told me to try. I don't know." She finally sighed, turning the key in the ignition and pulling off slowly, thinking.
Big Mike nodded. "That's why they need helpers - people to do their dirty work for them, to file bogus birth and death certificates, move property around... Yeah, let's go check out the mansion and see who's home."
This time as they drove, there was no raucous laughter, no teasing, and no fooling around. Instinctively they all knew that going into a mansion was more dangerous than opening a vault during the day. In a house, there were many interconnecting rooms, plus places to get trapped with nowhere to run. Windows could be sealed against the light, and tunnels could lead anywhere, particularly darkness.
"Looks empty - no activity," Mike murmured as he listened for sounds at the property's perimeter.
Standing on a lush carpet of golf-course-quality grass, the team stared up at the impressive whitewashed, six-columned mansion that had two levels of sweeping verandas running the length of the house, which was complete with multiple wings and an arched carriage port. Mature trees bowed and swayed in the breeze, draping Spanish moss as though it were made of ladies curtseying with hoop skirts at a Krewe masquerade ball.
"Not bad for a freed black sugar plantation owner back in the day... but, why is it white? Thought Nuit wouldn't stand for it. They normally don't like that color," Damali said in a quiet, concerned voice.
"At some point, he obviously had to fit in," Rider said, staring at the mansion. "Couldn't be too blatant in an era that still burned people suspected of witchcraft in town squares, now could he? Ingenious bastard."
Damali and Mike's eyes followed Rider's line of vision. Strange symbols had been etched in the black wrought-iron railing in front of the verandas, and on the shutters. To the unaware, the designs would appear to be simple artistic license to add beauty to the home. Some of the subtle markings looked like a family crest woven into ornate curlicues, but there was no doubt in the team's mind that it represented a vampire crest for Nuit's territory. Money, power, fame - Nuit's trinity.
"Thought they couldn't deal with iron?" Big Mike muttered, still studying the house.
"That's witches, not vamps - get your lore right," Rider said.
"All right," Damali said in a weary tone, "Mike's bad. Let's go around back and do this fast."
"Summertime is ripe with thunderstorms, D," Big Mike said as they all looked up at the darkening clouds.
"You have got to be kidding me." Rider sniffed the air. "Now our flight could be delayed. If my nose wasn't all jacked up by the crypt I would have smelled rain coming. Damn!"
"It's summertime in the storm belt... floods here, too."
"Well, Mike, I just suddenly feel better!"
"C'mon, guys. We're wasting time."
On Damali's command, they crept to the back of the expansive three-level structure and found a small back window that led into a stone pantry at the ground floor. She nodded, and Big Mike pried the wooden door open, breaking the L-shaped iron latch. As they stepped into the dark terrain, she noted that the windows weren't covered, and Rider motioned to silently suggest that they take a quick look upstairs. If too much light were evident, that usually meant a house wouldn't be occupied by night-dwelling inhabitants - which also meant that they'd just broken into a private home.
Stealing up a narrow flight of brick-and-stone steps, they stood in awe of the fully furnished, very clean, functional interior. Damali, Mike, and Rider glanced around at the expensive period furniture, Damali noting that the place had the color scheme of New Orleans king cake - purple for justice, green for faith, gold for power. Stained glass was set in the main doors, which opened to a Gone with the Wind staircase. Light poured in everywhere. She shook her head, as did Rider and Big Mike. Nothing came up on their internal sensors. The vampires' helpers often inherited from vamps, or kept their establishments running in their absence, but this place had too much light for a vamp to fall through.