The son of a philanthropist, Nathaniel Taunton was obsessed with all things medieval and more than a few things immoral. Upon his father’s death in 1883, Nathaniel used his inheritance to have a home built to feed his fetish for fantasy. Although not surrounded by a moat, the house was fashioned like castles of old right down to the fortified keep at the rear of the property, the stone floors, the magnificent halls…and the dingy dungeons.

Bennett approached the iron gates blocking the way. She looked at the call box to her left and scoffed. Bending her knees slightly, Bennett vaulted over the gate and silently landed on the asphalt on the other side, hardly breaking her stride as she continued to the house.

In days of old, Bennett’s journey would have ended at a drawbridge, raised and lowered under the orders of those in charge to permit her entry. However, that was then, and this was now. So, as she approached the door, the only things in Bennett’s way were two men, and their eyes were glowing.

The relationship between guardians and vampires dated back to the late 1500s, and it was profitable for both sides. The benefits were more than fair, and most vampires, to this day, used guardians to run their businesses, tend to their estates, and guard their homes while they slept. It was a tradition, and it was one Napoleon loathed. Napoleon had never trusted mortals, and upon the invention of security systems, he reduced their footprint in his life. They still cleaned his house and cooked his meals, and under a microscope, ran his businesses, but when it came to protecting his home at night, he preferred his own kind.

Bennett knew the men at the door, and they knew her, and she slowed her pace ever so slightly as she looked from one to the other and then back again. The weight of Bennett’s glower melted any indecision they had, and one man opened the door so she could enter.

The iron hinges creaked as the weighty wooden slab swung wide, and stepping inside, Bennett wrinkled her nose. The smell of opium, cannabis, liquor, and sex hung in the air, the stench so oppressive that Bennett had to clear her throat so as not to choke on it

A century had come and gone, yet as Bennett took stock of the enormous great hall before her, it seemed nothing had changed. The umpteen Victorian sofas and chaises filling the space were still upholstered in dark green or red brocades. Hand-knotted Oriental carpets in various sizes were still scattered about, helping to remove the chill emanating from the stone floor. The massive hearths on both sides of the great space were still ablaze with logs burning to ash, and countless vampires were, as always, in various stages of fornication.