Once Upon a Hallow's Eve: A Haven Paranormal Romance (Haven Paranormal Romances Book 1)
Danielle Garrett
Chapter 1
A lot can change in five years, but when dealing with centuries-old vampires, it was best not to expect progress. Without the urgency of mortality, the undead don’t seem to find it necessary to keep up with the Joneses, so to speak. Personally, I liked to shake things up from time to time, but as I stood in front of my childhood home, I remembered the trait was not at all genetic.
The Vaughn Estate was a sprawling time capsule with spires and stained-glass windows, every inch a reminder of days long since gone by. The row of Black Beauty rose bushes lining the iron fence at the front of the property were just starting to bloom, most of the near-ebony buds still tight.
I passed through the gate and made my way up the front walk, my steps slow and deliberate. I had no doubt I was being watched, and refused to falter or show even a hint of weakness. Coming home after all these years was a nightmare come true, but I’d be damned before I’d let it show.
A pair of raven statues guarded either side of the front doors greeted me with skeptical stares.
“Hello, Ralph. Bartholomew,” I said, greeting my stony friends with a trace of a smile. The names were unofficial, bestowed upon them by a six-year-old version of myself, back when I used to daydream that some wayward magic spell would come along and bring them to life. I’d laugh as they shook off their dull exteriors to reveal velvet feathers and glittering eyes. They would take me gently in their talons and together, we’d soar away on some faraway adventure.
It never happened of course, but that didn’t stop me from wishing. Now, the memory struck me as sad, though inevitable. When your father is known for staking vampires first and asking questions second, you don’t tend to have a lot of playmates growing up.
Speaking of … if I dawdled much longer, I was going to be on the receiving end of that wrath.
I raised the heavy bronzed knocker and let it fall.
My eyes slid closed as the sound reverberated through the double wooden doors. I drew in a slow breath and on the exhale, pleaded with my stone-faced friends, “Wish me luck, guys. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
The door opened, and a woman appeared, her face as blank as those of the granite birds above. “Lady Vaughn,” she said, her tone cool if not full-blown frosty. She stepped back to allow me entrance. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh, good,” I said with my most innocent smile. “Does that mean you baked some of my favorite cookies?”
She frowned, perplexed. “I was told you had an … interesting, sense of humor.”
I turned away, rolling my eyes as I took off my coat.
Welcome home.
Without ceremony, she took the coat from me and dumped it into the arms of a petite woman dressed in black. She had a thin, tattooed line circled her wrist, marking her as a household servant, and took the garment without meeting my eyes.
Ignoring them, I side-stepped and gazed around the expansive foyer, taking in every detail. A tidal wave of memories crashed over me, immediately threatening to pull me under.
Just as with the exterior of the estate, not a thing was out of place in the mansion. A familiar Oriental rug covered the majority of the foyer floor, trailing to the foot of a sweeping staircase that lead to the second level. The carved mahogany paneling on the walls was freshly polished, gleaming under the soft light of the crystal chandelier above our heads. The art on the walls was arrayed in the same layout as it had been since I’d first been old enough to notice it.
Apparently Pinterest hadn’t spread to the far corners of the supernatural world.
As I turned back to face the woman who’d answered the door, my eyes snagged on one thing that had changed. A long table sat to the right of the staircase, as it had for decades, boasting two antique vases that were always empty. But in between them, something was missing.
As soon as I spotted it, I couldn’t look away. It felt like being blasted with a Howitzer. My heart clenched as my mind’s eye automatically filled in the missing piece from memory. For as long as I could remember, there had always been a silver frame sitting between the two antiques, showcasing a family photograph—my parents, Baron and Baroness Vaughn, bookending my older sister, Melanie, and me.
It was gone.
The statement couldn’t be louder or clearer: That family no longer lived under this roof.
“Lord Vaughn is in his study,” the woman said, her clipped tone punching through my thoughts. She’d started to climb the stairs but paused when she realized I wasn’t following. She cleared her throat. “Lady Vaughn?”
I tore my eyes away from the phantom photograph and muttered an apology. We went up the stairs and down the hallway of the east wing. The woman kept a brisk pace as we walked, not giving me a chance to look around. Still, I glanced in every open doorway, and the onslaught of memories became more and more crushing with every step. Each room held some reminder of the past—some good, most not.
“You may wait here,” the woman told me, stopping a few paces away from my father’s study. “Lord Vaughn will let you know when he is available. He’s been made aware of your arrival.”
I’ll just bet he has. I forced a serene smile, as though she wasn’t leading me to the lion’s den, and the woman continued down the hall and slipped around a corner that led to a back staircase. The eerie silence of the hallway made me fidget. The clicking of my heels echoed as I paced a few steps back and forth, my fingers twisting together and then apart again. Minutes crawled by, each feeling like an hour. I fussed with my heather grey sweater, picking at minuscule pilling around the hem, all the while keeping an eye on the door of my father’s study.
A strange war raged inside me. Part of me willed the door open. I wanted to face my fate and get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid I’d slapped over this wound for the last five years. The other part of my mind was scared to death and firing off alarm bells, telling me to run and never look back.
Not that I had a choice. I knew it. Everyone in the mansion around me knew it too.
Six weeks ago, I’d come home from a late night out with friends to find an envelope bearing the Vaughn family crest in deep purple wax. A horrible mix of terror and dread had filled me before I’d even opened it. My father, the Baron of the East, was summoning me home after a five-year exile across the country. A summons wasn’t an optional thing. It wasn’t a suggestion or a friendly invitation to the family’s holiday celebration. That would have been far too civil. If I ignored a summons, my father would have sent a pack of his boot-licking minions after me and they wouldn’t have given up until they’d caught me.
No, it was either hold my head high and return on my own, or be dragged home kicking and screaming.
I knew which option my father would prefer, and if he was thinking what I thought he was, I would need all the advantage I could muster.
Footsteps sounded and my spine went stiff.
“Lacey!” a loud whisper carried down the hall.
Recognition blurred with surprise as I turned to find a willowy brunette running toward me.
“Jupe! What are you doing here?” I asked, matching her grin. It almost felt foreign on my face, being the first time I’d genuinely smiled since receiving the ominous letter.
Jupiter Reed, my oldest friend and confidant, reached me within a few strides, her long legs easily gobbling up the length of the hallway. She pulled me into a tight embrace and my throat clogged with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re here right now!”
“Of course I’m here! I had to see you.” She pulled back, holding me at arms-length for a moment. I reached up and swiped away a renegade tear.