Death Angel

Chapter 15: The Plot Thickens

The rays of the sun glinted in the early morning as I reached Steven Rutherford's plantation style estate. Modelled after the original antebellum bayou sugar cane houses of the 1900's, Rutherford's estate boasted an old world feel coupled with state of the art amenities.

Security was tight; the estate was gated of course. The last time I visited the estate, I was a welcome guest. I wasn't quite so welcome this time. I strolled along the ivy-ridden walls of the Rutherford estate. Knocking on the front door wasn't going to be a good option. Or was it?

Once we had gotten dressed, Gregor had graciously allowed me to leave. I didn't for a moment believe that a truce was what the vampire wanted. There was so much more to that initial introduction than met the eye. Still, I was grateful for having received that valuable piece of information from him, and more than a little surprised that he had let me go so easily. It was almost as if the vampire's objective all along had been to tell me about Helen Rutherford. Still, I wasn't one to dwell too much on things, and that particular line of thinking tended to lend itself to conspiracy theories.

I didn't tell Death about any of it, of course. Not of the Old Absinthe House, the Class-D's or Gregor Vincent. There really wasn't anything to be worried about, and telling him about my involvement in the Brood might jeopardize the game plan I had already put into play.

Upon further thought, I decided that walking right up to the estate and asking was the more prudent of two options. I walked up to the large iron gate and rang the bell.

"May I help you?" A voice came through the intercom.

"Please tell Steven Rutherford that Haley Wellington has come to see him."

"Our apologies, Ms. Wellington, but Mr. Rutherford is away on a business trip."

Perfect.

"That's a shame," I said, pretending to sound disappointed. "May I speak to Helen Rutherford instead?"

"Please give me a few moments, ma'am." The voice on the intercom said.

I waited for a good ten minutes before the person on the other side spoke again.

"Apologies for the wait, Miss Wellington. Mrs. Rutherford is in the gym at the moment, but she has extended you an invitation to join her for breakfast. Please, allow us to welcome you to the Rutherford Estate."

The large iron gates opened, and I was greeted by a black Lexus LS in the driveway. I got in and the driver tipped his hat at me.

It took a few moments for the Lexus to make it's way around the estate's well manicured grounds. Vast, well-tended gardens greeted me all around. The marble statues I had spied when I was last here were all over the place, too. There was just the slightest hint of gothic inspiration in the way they were laid out. The mansion's beautiful facade loomed before me, as we approached; a vision of perfection against the morning light.

The driver of the Lexus slowly came to a stop as he got out of the car. The soft sound of the car's sensor beeped, announcing an open door. The driver came over to my side and slowly and graciously opened the door. I got off and approached the mansion's main entrance.

The massive double doors opened as I approached, and I walked into the now-familiar foyer; this time devoid of the energetic band that played there the first time I had set foot into the estate. As a matter of fact, the main hall was oddly quiet. It was morning of course, but I half expected a lively band to be playing, even during this time. I guess Steven Rutherford's life wasn't one big party after all.

The home was opulent, which was to be expected. The beautiful macassar ebony hardwood floors greeted me upon entering, the wood was reclaimed, that much I could tell, which made it even more impressive. Their antique and well-oiled finish complemented by the decidedly old-fashioned persian carpets that seemed to span every facet of the home.