Diamonds and Daggers Read online

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  A Note from Nancy

  The Great Witches Baking Show

  Also by Nancy Warren

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Diamonds and Daggers

  Missing jewels, a witch's dagger and murder...

  Just a regular day at Cardinal Woolsey's Knitting and Yarn Shop in Oxford.

  When glamorous vampire Sylvia discovers a movie company is remaking one of her most famous silent films, she's determined to get some creative input and decides to make knitting shop owner, Lucy, the beneficiary of her estate. Lucy will front for Sylvia in dealing with the movie executives who want to recreate the priceless Cartier jewels made especially for the original movie and still owned by Sylvia.

  Meanwhile, Lucy's moving along in her witch's training. It's time to choose her own athame, a dagger that she'll use for spells.

  With all that going on, she's barely got time to run a knitting shop, never mind solve another murder.

  This is book 11 in the Vampire Knitting Club. From a USA Today bestselling author, these stories are cozy, clean, with quirky characters, a too-smart cat, and lots of magic and mayhem. Each can be read alone.

  You can get Rafe’s origin story for free when you join Nancy’s no-spam newsletter at nancywarren.net.

  Come join Nancy in her private Facebook group where we talk about books, knitting, pets and life.

  www.facebook.com/groups/NancyWarrenKnitwits

  Praise for the Vampire Knitting Club series

  "THE VAMPIRE KNITTING CLUB is a delightful paranormal cozy mystery perfectly set in a knitting shop in Oxford, England. With intrepid, late blooming, amateur sleuth, Lucy Swift, and a cast of truly unforgettable characters, this mystery delivers all the goods. It's clever and funny, with plot twists galore and one very savvy cat! I highly recommend this sparkling addition to the cozy mystery genre."

  Jenn McKinlay, NYT Bestselling Author

  “I’m a total addict to this series.” *****

  “Fresh, smart and funny” *****

  Chapter 1

  “Lucy, I have decided to make you the beneficiary of my estate,” Sylvia Strand announced with drama. Of course, having been a famous stage and screen actress in the silent era, Sylvia was always big on drama.

  She had come to visit me in my Oxford flat above Cardinal Woolsey’s Knitting and Yarn Shop, and she was alone, which was odd. Normally she and Agnes Bartlett, my grandmother, were inseparable. She looked at me expectantly, but I wasn’t sure how to react. Sylvia was a vampire so chances were that I, a mere mortal, was going to be pushing up daisies for centuries while she was still enjoying her wealth.

  I sensed there was more going on here than a desire to put her affairs in order. However, I didn’t want to appear rude, so I said, “Thank you.”

  There was a pause. She seemed to expect more. “I’m worth a great deal, you know. My jewels alone are worth a small fortune.” Her lips curved in a smile. “Perhaps not so small.”

  I really didn’t want to play games with Sylvia. She always won. So, I said, “Unless there’s something I don’t know, you’ll be wearing your jewels long after I’m gone.”

  “One never knows,” she said vaguely. And then suddenly dropped the attitude and sat on one of the chintz chairs in my living room, inviting me to sit opposite her on the couch. “Oh, all right. I need your help.”

  Nyx came in the window, sniffed at Sylvia’s ankles and jumped onto my lap. I was happy to have my familiar close while the glamorous vampire explained whatever favor she wanted.

  “It’s quite simple, really. A film company is remaking The Professor’s Wife, one of my most famous films.”

  I knew this, and she’d been furious when she found out. Now she seemed to have changed her tune. “Okay,” I said cautiously.

  “The company contacted my estate’s lawyer, Bertram Winthrop.”

  Her estate’s lawyer. “Is he…?”

  “Undead? Oh, yes. I never do business with daywalkers. Too temporary.”

  “Right.”

  “Bertram tells me Rune Films want to pay homage to the original. They intend to recreate the set of jewels used in the film.”

  “What jewels?”

  She chuckled softly. “Cartier designed a unique set for me to wear in the movie, and in the terms of my contract, I was able to keep them.”

  “Cartier designed jewelry especially for you?”

  “Of course. Jacques was a good friend. I was paid in those jewels. The diamonds were flawless, the emeralds remarkable in color, and the design is pure deco.”

  “Wow. That was quite the paycheck.”

  “I’ve kept them always. Now, I want you to wear them.”

  Suddenly I felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. “You want me to wear a priceless set of diamonds and emeralds? Where?”

  “Here in Oxford. First, you’re to meet with the producers in London as my beneficiary, representing my estate.”

  “London?”

  “That’s right. You’ll sign the contract giving the company the right to reproduce the jewels for the film and to have the real ones on display for a gala evening to announce the film. You will wear the jewels at this party. It will be held at St. Peter’s College where the film is being shot. It’s very exciting for you.”

  I didn’t feel the least bit excited. In fact, I felt faint. “Are the jewels insured?”

  “How does one insure that which is priceless?” She let that hang in the air for a moment and then leaned forward. “Don’t lose them.”

  The vampire knitting club met that night, but Sylvia had sworn me to secrecy. The vampire knitters might be the closest she had to friends, but I could tell she didn’t trust them, at least not with her priceless collection of jewels. Gran was in on the secret though. She looked delighted when she came upstairs through the trapdoor from the subterranean apartments that some of them shared below my shop. She said, “Lucy, isn’t it exciting? You’re going to be a film star.”

  I nearly choked, but Sylvia made a sound like she genuinely was choking. “A film star? She’ll be wearing my jewels. A stunning collection that once did belong to a film star back when people understood what glamour really was.”

  I had to hide my smile as she struck a pose like Greta Garbo in an old black-and-white movie. Gran hastily covered over her blunder by saying, “That’s what I meant, dear. Just wearing such a fabulous set of jewels will make Lucy feel like a star, I’m sure.”

  Sylvia sniffed. “I ought to be wearing them myself, but my lawyer insists it would be a dangerous thing to do.”

  I glanced at Gran, and both our eyes widened. I couldn’t imagine a worse idea than Sylvia showing up when she had supposedly been dead for decades. That was the thing. If she’d been undead for centuries, she’d get away with it. But she didn’t look that different from the silent screen star she had been. Wandering around the streets of Oxford, she could pass for anyone, but in the company of people who were remaking her most famous movie, there might be some seriously raise
d eyebrows, and that kind of scrutiny was what the local vampires always tried to avoid.

  Fortunately, Sylvia knew that wearing the jewels herself was impossible. As though to take her mind off the disappointment, Gran pulled out a paper bag with the Cardinal Woolsey logo stamped on it and said, “I’ve had the most wonderful idea. I saw the new Teddy Lamont magazine with this darling sweater knit in a diamond stitch. And he’s got a whole range of jewel-colored wools. I’m making it in red, in exactly your size, Lucy.”

  I loved it when the vampires knitted me sweaters. Even though I had a wardrobe full of them, it was always nice to have something new to wear around the shop. Naturally, since Gran knitted at supersonic speed, she already had the back done and part of one sleeve. At her pace, I’d be wearing the garment tomorrow. “My idea is to make one in every color. What do you think, dear? We could display them on the back wall of the shop.”

  I was very enthusiastic about the idea. “It would really draw people in. Gran, that’s a fantastic idea.”

  Hester, the perennially whiny teenager, had pulled herself up into the back room as though she were dragging herself out of her coffin. She let out a huge sigh. “Nice for some. No one ever asks me if I might like to make something for the shop.”

  We all turned to stare at her. Hester was not known for helping others. Then Gran, who was the nicest vampire in the world, said, “I’d be thrilled for you to do one, my dear. Which color do you like best?”

  Hester looked at the array of red and gold and green and sapphire blue and said, “Black.”

  What was the point?

  Gran said, “It’s not quite in keeping with our theme, though, is it? Do you think maybe you could try this blue color? It would look lovely with your eyes.”

  That caught her attention. Since we had a new vampire in town, a young Spaniard named Carlos, Hester had actually been attempting to improve her appearance and, at least when he was around, her attitude. Sadly, he wasn’t here, so she’d reverted to the sulky Hester we all knew and didn’t love.

  She snapped, “Fine.” And held out her hand impatiently.

  Gran grew flustered. “Well, I don’t have it here. I’ll have to go to the front of the shop and get you everything you’ll need.” She glanced at me, looking apologetic. “Is that all right, Lucy?”

  “I don’t run the vampire knitting club. I only provide the venue. It doesn’t matter to me if we’re a little late starting.”

  And so Gran took Hester to the shop for wool and supplies for the intricate sweaters they were going to knit. I settled down with the much less glamorous hat I was knitting. I thought if I really worked at it, I could have this finished by next week. I didn’t have many finished projects that I could be proud of. I really needed to start pulling my weight in the knitting department. I only wished I enjoyed knitting more. Sometimes I indulged myself with wishing that my grandmother had run a chocolate shop for me to inherit.

  Or maybe a jewelry store.

  Thinking about jewelry reminded me that later that evening, Sylvia wanted me to go downstairs with her and try on the Cartier set. I felt distinctly nervous at the idea of wearing her jewelry. I knew she didn’t want me to, and if there’d been any other option, she’d have taken it. But there wasn’t.

  She seemed to think she was conferring a great favor on me. I felt the opposite. If anything went wrong, I didn’t want a vampire as powerful as Sylvia holding a grudge.

  The very idea sent a shiver down my spine. I told myself that nothing would happen and dug my knitting needle into the next stitch.

  We did our show and tell when everyone was gathered. Dr. Christopher Weaver, a dapper man who ran a private blood bank, was working on one of his endless vests. Mabel was making a sweater that looked like a bath mat. It was truly the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, lime green festooned with big crocheted flowers in orange and purple. Still, she worked at it cheerfully.

  Sylvia started when she saw the work in progress and then carefully averted her eyes as though she’d permanently damaged her eyeballs by looking at it.

  Gran and Hester were both working on diamond sweaters, and Hester seemed marginally more cheerful now that she felt included.

  Sylvia didn’t work on anything. It was unlike her, which made me suspect that she was as nervous as I was. Carlos, the young-looking gorgeous Spaniard, arrived with a black backpack that contained his knitting. Hester immediately transformed from sulky to sweet. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight,” she said.

  “I wasn’t planning to, but I got in a tangle, and I need help.” He sat beside her and pulled out something I could have made. It wasn’t tangled. His tension was too tight. I’d had the same problem when I first began knitting. I felt very pleased with myself that I could both diagnose his problem and know that I had learned to loosen up with my knitting. Progress. Since he was the only other non-expert knitter in the club, I brightened up almost as much as Hester did when he came to our meetings.

  She leaned in to help. “Oh, silly. You’ve been knitting so tightly that you can barely get your needles in the wool. And you’ve dropped a stitch. Let’s get you back on track.”

  Rafe arrived about five minutes later. I knew he was there when Nyx, my black cat familiar, perked up and let out a happy meow. I have pretty good hearing, but hers is extraordinary. Especially when Rafe is around. He came in and apologized for being late. He glanced around the room, almost as though checking who was there, and then his gaze rested on me, and he gave me the smile that he never gives to anyone else. “Lucy, good evening.”

  “Hi,” I said, and then I put my head down and got back to my knitting.

  Okay, it wasn’t exactly sweet nothings, but there were a dozen very nosy vampires overhearing our every word. Rafe had proposed to me, and I had no idea how to answer, which made everything awkward.

  He settled down and pulled out his own knitting. I watched him for a couple of minutes, his long-fingered hands working with fine navy cashmere.

  Carlos watched him, too, no doubt longing for the day his knitting would be that smooth and effortless. He asked, “Is that for Lucy?”

  Rafe glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “That sweater you’re knitting. Is it for Lucy?” Everyone stopped knitting and stared at him as though he’d made a bad joke. Rafe had never knit me a sweater. All the other vampires had, along with hats, scarves, mittens, leggings, dresses. But not Rafe. How had I never noticed this before?

  “No,” he said.

  “He’s afraid of the curse,” Clara said to Mabel in a louder voice than she’d probably intended.

  “Curse?” Carlos asked. “What curse?”

  I’d stopped knitting now, too. How could there be curses even in knitting? Was nothing safe?

  “It’s just a silly superstition,” Gran said, but she looked like she was trying not to smile.

  “Not silly at all,” Clara said. “My sister Bernice had it happen to her.”

  “Had what happen?” I asked, dying to know what all this was about. And what it had to do with Rafe.

  “The curse of the love sweater, of course,” Clara said.

  Carlos and I shared a glance. Curse of the love sweater?

  “Bernice was set to marry her beau,” Clara continued. “A nice young man. He was a stoker on the railway. She decided to knit him a sweater. Lovely it was. Gray with red stripes. By the time she got to the second sleeve, he was stepping out with another girl. That’s the love sweater curse.” She shook her head. “She put that sweater away and never picked up knitting again. Died a spinster, she did.”

  “The curse is foolish nonsense,” Sylvia snapped. But she seemed to be in a snappish mood.

  “This curse then,” Carlos asked, “does it only happen if you’re already going out together?”

  “No,” Mabel said. “It’s considered wise never to knit a sweater for someone you hope will one day be yours.”

  Rafe had his head down and kept knitting as though he were dea
f to the conversation. Since I wasn’t a vampire, I could still blush and felt my face getting warm. To hide it, I got more diligent with my own knitting than was usual for me.

  At least I now knew why Rafe never knit me anything.

  We knitted for a couple of hours, sharing gossip, and then the vampires began folding up their work. At this point, I usually went up to bed and they went out to socialize or roam the streets or whatever they did when most of Oxford was sleeping.

  Tonight, I packed away my knitting and followed Gran and Sylvia toward the trap door that led down into the tunnel toward their home.

  Rafe said, “Lucy. I imagined you’d be going up to bed.”

  I wasn’t going to lie to him, and Sylvia must have known it. She said, before I could open my mouth, “I want Lucy’s advice about something.”

  He raised an eyebrow and looked at her in a rather searching way, but when she didn’t elaborate, he merely said, “I’ll bid you all goodnight then.” And he left.

  We climbed down the rough stairway into the tunnels that ran underneath the city of Oxford. For as long as I’d been coming down here, I was always still slightly creeped out when I’d climbed down the stairs. I could smell the damp from the river that had once run under here. I stuck to the side where the stone path met the rough stone wall and where torches were burning to light our way. You’d miss the doorway that leads into the vampires’ lair if you didn’t know it was there. They’d left it deliberately old and decrepit-looking, but looks can be deceiving. That door was as high-tech and secure as any door in the world probably. Sylvia, Gran and I went in and instead of going straight through to Sylvia’s rooms as I’d anticipated, we followed Sylvia’s lead and sat in the living room. Most of the others were only returning to drop their work off before going out for the night.