We had to sneak in through a different yard since the new owners of the main house had not only moved in but were throwing a party. A dozen cars were jammed in the driveway and along the curb out front, and laughter flowed out through open windows.
The old haunted carriage house at the back of the property was shrouded in its usual darkness, the landscaping lights not daring to stray too close. The playhouse that dark elves and I had collaborated to partially blow up had been removed.
A dog barked as Xervan, Diavan, and I hopped the fence, but it was in the house. I wondered if it knew about the vampire in residence in its back yard.
Diavan didn’t comment on the dog, simply leading us through the root-cellar entrance and under the carriage house. Red eyes glowed in the secret tunnel we
