Belly of the Beast

Chapter 48

Music welcomed us as we entered the necromancer's mountainside mansion. It was a gentle, classical piece emanating from speakers tucked into ceiling alcoves. I couldn't recall hearing music the last time we visited, but my senses seemed more attuned now. We were greeted by Dmitry's faithful servant, Igor, but he wasn't the only one to attend to us. I noticed at least half a dozen more bodies than before, all buzzing around the estate like worker bees.

Vincent and I were given the same room as before, overlooking the labyrinth, while Wren got settled into the room beside us, making it easy for Henry to be transferred from one caretaker to the other through a shared bathroom. Pitchers of water sat on each table, along with a plate of lemon wedges. There was even a rocking chair added to our room. Apparently, Dmitry had given explicit instructions to find one that provided maximum comfort.

Igor seemed overly eager to describe every amenity his gracious master had seen to before our arrival, ensuring we had a pleasant and relaxing stay. I did my best not to roll my eyes as a maid calling herself Truly pointed out the fuzzy slippers and thick, terrycloth robes left expressly for our use. No way was I sticking my feet into something that might be hiding a malicious spider.

While we waited for Dmitry to make his grand entrance, Wren spent time in front of the dressing table. She enhanced her already large eyes with a set of lashes she called her secret weapons, and I twisted her dark, wavy hair into a French braid. After that, she changed from her traveling clothes into a black, calf-length dress sprinkled with red roses.

The cut of the dress allowed her right leg to slip through the silky fabric as she walked, and the low-cut bodice revealed just enough cleavage to force a glance. The look offered the perfect blend of subtlety and distraction. Given that the only weakness Dmitry seemed to possess was his fondness for a woman's company, we were playing to that weakness without shame.

When Igor summoned us for dinner, Vincent assumed the protective Lion King role, toting his cub into the dining room, who had been sleeping fitfully inside his car seat. As expected, the table stood empty apart from place settings. Vincent was shown to his chair beside the head of the table. Then, ignoring Igor's attempt to seat me on the opposite side, he pulled out the chair next to him, gesturing me into it and setting Henry down between us.

Wren was seated across the table from Vincent, and when Igor helped her settle in, I noticed him admiring her cleavage. At least, her plan was working on the staff.

"His grace will attend you any moment," he said as he performed a small bow. "I have been instructed to open a bottle of pinot noir. A special favorite of the master. The grapes are grown in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania. Is there something else I can get you?"

"I'd love some black tea, if you have it," I asked. I'd been jonesing for a caffeine boost.

"Indeed, we do. Luba, our driver, enjoys it every day with her mid-day meal. I will return promptly with your beverages."

When Igor left the room, Wren spoke as she leaned across the table. "If only we could train Bates to adopt the decorum of that nice man."

"That nice man was checking out your rack," Vincent told her bluntly.

"Don't be a prude, Vincent. That's the point, isn't it?" She threw him a dismissive wave, and I watched as she scanned the room, taking in her surroundings. When her gaze landed on a painting of two robust, nude women entwined on a bed, a smile tweaked her lips. "Dmitry certainly appears to be a collector of fine paintings. I recognize that one from an exhibition at The Met. I just can't recall the artist's name."

"Zat piece is called Sleep, and vas painted by Gustave Courbet."

Everyone turned in their seats as Dmitry crossed the room. He approached the table in calm, graceful strides, and I couldn't help thinking he had been hiding around the corner, waiting for the perfect time to stage his entrance. I refused to let him think I was impressed, but I had to work hard not to react to his appearance.