Monday Morning, Vancouver, Caulfield House

About a third of the way down the massive wooden staircase the older of the two tuxedo-clad men paused, head up, nostrils flaring as though he were testing a scent on the air. “We’re not . . . alone.”

“Well, there’s at least another twenty invited guests,” his companion began lightly.

“Not what I meant.” Red-gold hair gleamed as he turned first one way then the other. “There’s something . . . else.”

“Something else?” the younger man repeated, suspiciously studying the portrait of the elderly gentleman in turn-of-the-century clothing hanging beside him. The portrait, contrary to expectations, continued to mind its own business.

“Something . . . evil.”

( Cut for canon. )

[Lifted almost exactly from chapter one of Smoke and Mirrors by Tanya Huff.  To be continued... dun dun dun!]