species as one would any pest or varmint. Since neither Maggie nor Nolan was personally familiar with hobknobbits, that could only mean that the consequential process had been successful. It also meant the origin of the piece downstairs was very, very old.
That, in turn, begged the question, why would someone want to attach malevolent magic to a hobknobbit sculpture? And why would they want to send such a thing to the Hallows? Was it connected to the timing of my arrival? It sounded paranoid, but was a question worth asking.
A few minutes before four I descended the stairs.
“Good God,” I said to Olivia. “I know I’m new to tea, but this must be the most beautiful tea ever served.”
I’d gushed enough to make her blush return. She ducked her chin but looked up immediately as the tap of the brass knocker sounded at my front door. I looked at my watch. Four o’clock. John David was punctual.
Gotta like that.
Olivia opened the door to the shop, as we’d discussed earlier, then filled the silver pot with steamy water while I answered the door.
In a nineteenth-century sort of way, John David Weir was dashing in his jodhpurs, riding boots, and tweedy-looking sweater. I looked out to see if he’d tied his horse somewhere nearby.
Following my line of sight, he said, “Am I forgetting something?”
“No.” I smiled reassuringly. “I just noticed you’re wearing riding clothes and wondered where you left your mare.”
“There’s a post on the green,” he said.
“And you’re not worried that someone might tease her? Or steal her?”
His mouth twitched, eyes lighting with amusement, just before he shook his head no.
“I’m sorry to leave you standing there. Come in.”
I closed the door behind him, noticing again how tall he was.
“Olivia has set out a nice tea in the kitchen.” He followed without a word. I gestured for him to sit in the chair closest to the wall and took the chair nearest the door to the shop for myself. “How are you today?”
He turned his face toward me. His expression was akin to euphoric. Like he couldn’t believe someone was asking something as simple as how he was. My heart clenched in sympathy.
“I’m… well,” he said, clearly out of practice with the simplest of niceties.
“I’ve been looking forward to resuming our conversation.”
“You have?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes. Last night you hinted at your history and I’m interested. You said you weren’t always a vampire. I guess that probably goes without saying, but I’m new to alternative realities.”
I opened the rosewood box that contained a variety of teas and motioned for him to choose. He picked a Black Russian and handed it to me.
I smiled, happy to open it for him. He tracked every movement closely as I tore the paper wrapper away and placed the teabag in his cup. As I poured hot water, I said, “As an American, I don’t know much about hosting tea. So, if I’m doing this wrong, let me know.”
“You’re not doing it wrong,” he said quietly.
I chose a lavender chamomile for myself and poured the water.
“Please have some of Olivia’s pastries. She could be the best cook in all the world for all I know.”
He nodded and put a dainty triangular sandwich on his plate.
I studied him while steeping my tea, added a splash of cream, three raw sugars, and stirred until the color was just right. All the while I was aware that he hadn’t accepted my conversational invitation to tell me more about himself. When I lifted my cup to take a sip, he watched as closely as if he’d never seen someone drink from a cup.
“Hmmm,” I said. “Just right.” Setting cup in saucer, I turned my attention to him. “What would you like to talk about?” He looked like he was at a loss for an answer. “How long have you been here? In, or I should say near, Hallow Hill?”
“A hundred and… forty? Years?”
“That’s a long time. What brought you here?”
He swallowed and quietly cleared his throat. “I’d done a favor for Prince Edward. Something he considered worthy of a bounty. He rewarded me with an estate that included farms and tenants.” His eyes wandered. “Here.”
“Go on,” I encouraged. I didn’t need to pretend to be interested. I was hooked.
“I liked it here but was still young enough to be… restless. So I visited from time to time to check the manager’s accounts and make sure he wasn’t making off with the candlesticks. At best it was a youthful, halfhearted stab