by Mason, Nina
“A romantic and sexy tale for the discerning paranormal aficionado who appreciates being enlightened along with thrills, chills, and sizzles!”
—Fresh Fiction
Paranormal Investigator Vanessa Meadows believes in every kind of magic except love. When her new boss sends her on an assignment to remote Caithness, Scotland, she’s determined to do whatever it takes to prove the Vampire of Barrogill is more than a legend. First, however, she must get inside the castle where the entity is believed to dwell.
Castle Barrogill belongs to Callum Lyon, a handsome baron and reclusive political astrologer. Their strong mutual attraction proves a boon to Vanessa’s plans, but, once inside his castle, she encounters more paranormal activity than she bargained for. There’s no vampire, but there is a blood-drinking faery knight—and a ghost who will stop at nothing to keep her there.
Will freedom-loving Vanessa’s feelings for Callum, aided by nudges from the ethers, be enough to persuade her to give him a chance? Or will the dark secrets of Castle Barrogill only reinforce her disbelief in the power of love?
Books by Nina Mason
Royal Pains
Devil in Duke’s Clothing
The Duke’s Bedeviled Bride
The Devil’s Masquerade
The Devils Who Would Be King (July 2016)
Sins Against the Sea
Knights of the Tarot
(Revision and re-release of former Knights of Avalon series)
Knight of Wands
Knight of Cups
Knight of Pentacles (June 13, 2016)
Knight of Swords (January 2017)
Out of Print
The Queen of Swords
The Tin Man
Starry Knight
Dark and Stormy Knight
Knight of Wands
Knights of the Tarot, Book One
Nina Mason
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 by Nina Mason
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be produced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Dedication
To Dan, my own paradoxical Aquarian
Prologue
The Tarot Reading
Vanessa Meadows stopped at the foot of the rickety steps leading to Madam Rue’s Voodoo Emporium. She felt as if she’d reached a crossroads in her life, and not just because she had moved halfway across the country to take a job as a paranormal investigator. Neither was it because of the break-up or the fact she was flying to Scotland tomorrow on her first solo assignment: to prove the Vampire of Barrogill was more than a legend.
The feeling went deeper than that—the reason she’d come here instead of consulting the wisdom of the tarot on her own, as she normally did. She needed the insights of a more practiced medium and, according to Beau Armstrong, her new boss, the woman at Madame Rue’s was one of the best around.
She stood there a moment surveying the shop’s dilapidated exterior. How she had expected the shop to look, she couldn’t say. She only knew she hadn’t envisioned the broken-down converted house in front of her. The place looked like it should have been condemned, not open for business. Dingy, peeling paint. Broken shutters hanging askew. A snarl of electrical wires crisscrossing the clapboards. Taking a breath to steel her courage, she climbed the stairs and picked her way across the creaking porch boards.
Bells jangled her nerves as she pushed through the front door. The pungent scent of incense and dried herbs hung heavily in the air. The profusion of inventory was no less overwhelming. Small and cramped, the dimly-lit shop was jammed to the rafters with a hodgepodge of masks, candles, statues, jewelry, wax figures, skulls, and little bowls filled with all sorts of mystical whatnots.
Undaunted, Vanessa spent a few minutes browsing the shelves before curiosity drew her to a display of what appeared to be necklaces. Closer inspection revealed they were pouches strung on cords. Amulets of some sort, obviously.
Intrigued, she turned the circular rack and pinched a few of the charms as she read their tags. The one to attract love felt gritty, the one to draw money was lumpy, and the one to protect against evil spirits contained what could be tiny bones.
“Can I be of assistance?”
The mixed-race saleswoman who’d asked the question had blond dreadlocks and a disk the size of a silver dollar in her earlobe.
Vanessa, still fingering the pouches, met the woman’s striking blue eyes with a pleasant smile. “What are these called?”
“Gris-gris or ju-ju,” the clerk answered, returning her smile. “They’re worn to attract good or ward off evil.”
“What’s in them?”
“All sorts of consecrated objects and herbs.”
Her answer was too vague to satisfy Vanessa. Removing the gris-gris to protect against evil spirits from the rack, she held it out to the saleswoman. “What specifically does this one contain?”
Taking the talisman from Vanessa’s hand, the saleswoman sniffed the pouch before offering a more edifying answer. “Herbs, oils, stones, small bones, hair, fingernail clippings, and pieces of cloth soaked in sweat—all blessed by Madam Rue, the owner of the shop. In case you don’t know, she’s a highly respected Voodouan priestess.”
Vanessa took the explanation in stride. She had been born and raised in San Francisco, which was just as funky, but in a more Bohemian way. She adored San Francisco. The undulating streets, spectacular bay, distinctive neighborhoods, huddled Victorians, and clanging cable cars. The eccentric architecture and characters. The bounty of great restaurants, bookstores, seafood, and bread. San Francisco fit her like her favorite little black dress.
If not for the Golden Gate Bridge, she might never have considered moving away. But everywhere she looked, there it was. A screaming red reminder that her mother had chosen death over her.
Dragging her thoughts back to the present, Vanessa said to the clerk, “I’ve come to have my cards read. Are you the medium?”
“You want Crystal, who you’ll find back there.” The woman gestured toward the back of the store. “Through the curtain displaying Our Lady of Prompt Succor.”
Vanessa thanked her and moved toward the rear of the jumbled shop in search of the patron Madonna of New Orleans. Finding the curtain, she stepped through into a small room that was less cluttered but no less funky than the rest of the shop. A Voodouan altar stood against the rear walls. The glass enclosed candles illuminating the assortment of objects thereon lent the space an eerie, ethereal feel. A round table stood in the center of the room. A pair of old chairs faced each other across the gold-stamped black cloth covering the table.
As Vanessa studied the esoteric symbols stamped on the cloth, a woman stepped out of a shadowy doorway behind the altars. She was white, fortyish, wore a scarf on her head, and had clear blue eyes.
“Welcome to the inner sanctum, sister.” When she spoke, the gold cap on one of her front teeth caught the candlelight. “I am Crystal. How can I be of service?”
“I’ve come to get my cards read,” Vanessa replied. “I work for Beau Armstrong, who gave me your name. He said you were very good.”
The woman’s eyes brightened at the mention of Mr. Armstrong, an encouraging sign. Vanessa had just started working for him and was still trying to evaluate what kind of person and boss he might be.
“How is my old friend?”
“He’s good,” Vanessa replied, “and sends his regards.”
Crystal smiled. “Give him mine in return, if you would be so kind.”
“I’ll be sure to, as soon as I return from Scotland. I’m leaving tomorrow on my first a
ssignment as a paranormal investigator—part of the reason I want my cards read.”
Crystal, still smiling, arched an eyebrow. “What’s the assignment? Or is it a secret?”
“It’s not a secret, except from the guy whose castle I’m going to investigate. According to legend, there’s a vampire living in a secret room there—a generations-old family secret known only to the current baron.”
The medium’s smile took on the cast of a smirk. “You don’t need to go all the way to Scotland to find a vampire. In case you haven’t noticed, New Orleans is crawling with them.”
“I want to go,” Vanessa told her. “I’ve always wanted to see Scotland…and the owner of the castle is a political astrologer whose work I greatly admire.”
A gleam came into the medium’s eyes. “An astrologer? How interesting. What’s his name? Perhaps I’ve heard of him.”
“You probably have, as he’s quite well known in astrological circles. His name is Callum Lyon.”
Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Of course. We carry his books in the shop.”
“I’ve read them all,” Vanessa said, “and have long wanted to meet him.”
“Because of his work?” The medium’s blue eyes twinkled playfully. “Or because he’s so handsome?”
A blush heated Vanessa’s face. The truth was, she did hope to charm her way into Lord Lyon’s bed while abroad—and not just to gain admittance to his castle. “Because of his work, of course.”
Crystal must have sensed Vanessa’s unease because she dropped the subject and moved to the other side of the table. Motioning toward the chair on the opposite side, she said, “Please have a seat and we shall see what insights the cards wish to reveal to you.”
Once both of them were seated, Crystal took up the cards and shuffled seven times before setting the deck in front of Vanessa. “Put your hands on the cards and focus on the question you want the cards to answer. Then, when you’re ready, cut the stack into thirds with your left hand.”
When the cards seemed sufficiently infused with her energy, she cut the deck as instructed. Crystal promptly reclaimed the cards and began to lay them out one at a time, affirming what each card represented as she set it in place face up.
“This is what covers you.”
“This is what crosses you for good or ill.”
“This is the basis of the situation.”
“This is behind you, or in the process of leaving.”
“This is what crowns you and could come into being.”
“This is before you.”
“This represents your own negative feelings.”
“This represents the feelings of others around you.”
“This represents your own positive feelings.”
“This is the outcome.”
Vanessa’s pulse quickened as she studied the spread. Seeing The Tower, the card of cataclysmic change, in the position of “what crowns you and could come into being,” confirmed the uncanny feeling her life was about to change in significant ways. Neither did the Three of Swords, the card of emotional strife. Thankfully, the Three of Swords, the card of emotional strife, was in the past—and so was Nick Crowe. If only she could say the same for the unpleasant memories of their brief, but volatile, affair.
On a brighter note, she had the Two of Wands, the card of career success through perseverance, as “the basis of the situation.” The spread also contained three court cards: the Knight of Wands representing what was before her; the Queen of Pentacles in the position of her own negative feelings; and the King of Cups signifying the feelings of others around her.
The knight, a man of fiery passions coming into her life, had to be Callum Lyon. This was good, especially when coupled with the Two of Wands. Together, the cards strongly suggested her plan to seduce him would work.
The queen, a distrustful career-focused woman, was probably her. She did not, however, like the card’s position, indicating her need for independence could work against her in achieving the outcome—the Two of Cups.
Vanessa compressed her lips as she studied the final card’s imagery: a man and woman exchanging golden chalices under a winged lion’s head atop a caduceus. Though it looked like a wedding, it obviously wasn’t, because she had no interest in getting married. Now or ever. As far as she was concerned, marriage was akin to a prison sentence for a freedom-loving Aquarian such as herself.
Lifting her gaze to Crystal’s, she asked, “What do you think it all means?”
“The knight represents a man who is charismatic, seductive, and passionate,” the medium answered. “A new lover, perhaps, but the affair might be short-lived.”
Tucking a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear, Vanessa smiled her approval. “Good. A fling is all I’m in the market for.”
As underhanded as it sounded, seducing Callum Lyon seemed the only way to get inside Barrogill Castle. According to Mr. Armstrong, Lord Lyon was an interfering, self-righteous womanizer who deserved no consideration. The two men had met at a conference, apparently, and did not hit it off—the reason her boss gave her the assignment in Caithness instead of taking the trip himself.
She was thrilled, of course, that Mr. Armstrong had entrusted her with such an important mission so early in her tenure with his agency, but still didn’t like the idea of using anyone. Even a cad like Callum Lyon. Not that she’d be using him per se, she reasoned, since her attraction to him was genuine.
Her plan was to attend his lecture tomorrow evening, do her best to hook up with him, and see where things went. If he invited her to his castle, she was golden. In two weeks, she’d come home and, if she uncovered the evidence she hoped to, share her findings on Mr. Armstrong’s streaming web program, Supernatural Secrets Revealed.
“Then again…” said Crystal, calling Vanessa back to the reading, “he could just as easily be your perfect match.”
Vanessa wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Doubtful, since he lives thousands of miles away in Scotland. Plus, I’m not in the market for a relationship, especially one that’s long term and long distance.”
“Even if he’s Mr. Right?” As she said it, Crystal arched a pale eyebrow.
Vanessa pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Right is a fairy tale for women who feel the need to be rescued, which isn’t me.”
“You don’t believe in fairy tales?”
“I used to, but not anymore.”
Even if so-called true love did exist, which Vanessa seriously doubted, how could she trust it to last? Just look at her and Nick. In the beginning, she couldn’t get enough of him and now she couldn’t stand to be in the same city with the man. Luckily, she’d moved several states away for her new job, the offer of which could not have been better timed. Nick wouldn’t stop texting her, begging her to reconsider. As if. Obviously, he did not appreciate her need for freedom or her unflinching dedication to her career, despite how clear she had been about her goals from the start of their three-month affair.
Crystal was watching her carefully with glittering eyes. “You don’t believe in love?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe love exists,” Vanessa told her. “It’s just that I refuse to plan my whole life around something so intangible.”
She wasn’t like most women. Marriage and motherhood were never her goals. While her friends dreamed of a house with a husband, kids, and a picket fence, she envisioned herself single and successful in a high-rise apartment with a killer view of some fabulous city skyline.
“Tell me what you make of the Two of Cups,” Vanessa said.
“The card suggests the joining of opposites.” Crystal placed her finger on the winged lion. “You see this?”
Nodding, Vanessa frowned down at the card. “Why is it red?”
“It represents Leo, which, as you know, is a fire sign. But it’s also an alchemical symbol representing the merger of two opposing elements.”
Still frowning, Vanessa swept her gaze over the entire spread. “What does it me
an in relation to the rest of the cards?”
“I’d say you’re going to meet a man who’s your opposite. A fiery Leo, it would seem.” Crystal raised her gaze to Vanessa’s. “Are you an Aquarian by any chance?”
A shudder went thorough Vanessa, setting off her inner alarms. She knew what the medium was getting at. Leos and Aquarians opposed each other on the zodiacal wheel, which made them temperamental opposites. Was she wrong to believe Lord Lyon, being a reputed Lothario, would be glad to let her go at the end of their affair?
“I am.”
Crystal looked deeply into Vanessa’s eyes for several moments before saying, “Then I suggest you give your Knight of Wands a chance to change your mind about love.”
PART ONE
The Heart of a Lion
Chapter 1
Twenty-four hours later
John o’Groats, Scotland
“Have a look at your adoring fan over there,” Duncan said, leaning in. “I do believe she’s visually undressing you.”
Callum looked up from the book he’d been signing—Political Astrology through the Ages, his latest in a series on the subject. The fan in question stood by the refreshment table, clutching the book to her chest. Was she undressing him with her gaze? A smile stole across his mouth as interest deepened its hook. Judging by the heat of her stare, he was already naked in her mind.
While delivering his lecture on the same topic, he’d seen her in the third row, giving him equally heated looks. All through his talk, her presence, not to mention her seductive stare, had made it difficult to concentrate on his notes. Luckily, he knew the topic well enough to wing it.
Licking his lips, he traced the long, smooth contours of flesh and muscle beneath the posh black pantsuit she wore. She was tall and slender—willowy—with an angular face and a wide, full mouth that stretched into an inviting smile as his gaze met hers with an electrical charge he felt in his groin. Her eyes were as blue and deep as a loch. Mesmerized, he returned the smile. How easily he could get lost in those eyes, forget how to swim, and realize too late he was drowning.
