Wolves at the Door - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,10

many vampires have. The racism and the sexism. He thought he was very avant-garde. I’m sure he was when he was a young man in the 1940s…”

“That begins to explain this place,” I said.

“Does it?” Graham peered toward the next room. It was purple, sort of a muddy lavender to be specific, with olive green chairs and a very elegant white fireplace that still seemed quite original to the house—1830s or so, probably. It was topped by a painting of a lounging nude Asian lady with a kimono sliding off her shoulder.

“I see that he has a certain…inclusive attitude about his nude ladies,” I said. “As for the sexism, I’m not sure I would want to be his date and come over to this house.” This room had candle fixtures everywhere, all of them gold and ornate. Like Lockwood House, this home had only the most basic electricity.

“He would have made a fine incubus,” Byron said. “He worshipped women but never married.”

“Bah,” I said. “I don’t want to be worshipped.”

“Well, he was old,” Byron said. “And I also wonder how often you’ve been worshipped. You might enjoy it more than you expect.” He winked at me.

“Hey,” Graham said. “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

“I’ll let Helena decide,” Byron said. “But I have no argument with you, Graham. Helena can handle a great deal of admiration of different types, I expect.”

“Whoa, check this out!” I said, trying not to get into the middle of this. “Another chandelier!” This one was draped with so many strands of crystals that it looked like fifty necklaces jammed together in a tangle.

“I’m not sure I want to know why the two incubi are battling over you,” Bevan murmured in my ear.

“It’s just what they do,” I whispered, and more loudly, “Well, I’m casting a search spell for this treasure. We need to get right on it and get out of here. It takes time to sign paperwork, but…not that much time.”

I held out my wand and tried to focus. It was hard when it was so much easier to sense the moods of Byron and Graham. Not to mention, I hadn’t seen either of them in a while and I really wanted time to appreciate their presence.

The house was humming with magic, and it was even stronger than Lockwood House. In that house, I sensed all the remnants of spells cast by wizards past. This house was infused with magic down to the structure. It didn’t seem to come from any particular place. I knew the treasure was here, I just needed to filter out the noise.

“Bev, you said this place was becoming a parallel?” I asked my familiar. “What do you mean by that? How does a place become a parallel?”

“That’s why Byron was able to change into a demon,” Bevan said, with a slightly long-suffering tone that meant I had probably learned this in school and forgotten. “It means that when this house was originally built, this was the human world entirely. But a wizard has lived here so long that the world is thinning. Magic also requires some element of human belief. So Deveraux must have had human visitors or servants who regarded Greenwood Manor as a magical place. Therefore, over the years, their belief is making this a powerful spot. What this also means is that the house will need a guardian.”

I was only half listening because the house was capturing all my attention.

“Sounds complicated. Glad it’s not my problem,” I said. “Ahh…” I tapped my foot on a medallion on the floor. “I feel something here.” I surveyed the spacious, magnificent room where my search led me.

This was definitely a ballroom. A serious ballroom, with two chandeliers shaped like bowls formed of individual crystals and a ceiling painted with mythological scenes. The walls were a simple muted pink—not to be confused with the bright pink in the other room—with white trim-work that boxed the walls into rectangular sections, each with a framed painting of ballerinas, reminiscent of Degas. The wooden floors were the showstopper. They were made of many different colors of wood arranged in a pattern almost like a sunburst, but instead of a sun at the center, there was a compass indicating which direction the house faced.

Nothing in this house was subtle. It was in the fine tradition of a 19th century mansion. Why use one pattern when you can use ten at once? Why hang one painting when you can hang enough to make your house an art