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
A Note from Nancy
Diamonds and Daggers
The Great Witches Baking Show
Also by Nancy Warren
About the Author
Introduction
A Secret Society leads to Murder
The Gargoyle Club is a secret society in Oxford’s Cardinal College, where privileged young men from important families get drunk and rowdy and cause trouble. Rafe, as a member of the club, is not impressed with these newest Gargoyles.
Meanwhile, a social climbing high school friend of Lucy’s is in town. Is she really after an art history degree or is her purpose more devious?
When someone dies during a club dinner it looks like more than boys behaving badly. It’s up to Lucy and her undead knitters to solve the crime.
You can get Rafe’s origin story for free when you join Nancy’s no-spam newsletter at nancywarren.net.
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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
Rafe tossed the newspaper aside in disgust. “In my day, secret societies were exactly that, secret. None of this showing up on the front page of the newspaper looking drunk and disorderly.”
I was busy restocking the shelves of Cardinal Woolsey’s Knitting and Yarn shop, but at the words “secret society,” I had to look over his shoulder. Something about the notion intrigued me. Probably because I was pretty sure I’d never be invited to any secret club. Unless you counted my local coven, which I wasn’t invited to join as much as forced into by my annoying witch relatives.
The front page of the Oxford Daily showed a fuzzy photograph of four young men looking definitely the worse for wear. One appeared to be peeing into the bushes outside a very nice house. Behind them was a broken window. The headline read: “Rowdy Youth Damage Oxford Property.” I skimmed the article, but it was only a couple of paragraphs about how these young men had disrupted a quiet neighborhood, vandalized property and police believed a young woman had witnessed their behavior. They were looking for help in identifying the men and wanted the young woman to come forward to help with their inquiries.
“There’s nothing there about any secret society,” I said, disappointed. I wanted to read about bizarre midnight rituals and feasts that lasted days. This just looked like a stag party gone wrong.
Rafe shook his head at me. “There used to be dignity and honor associated with The Order of the Gargoyles. Now it’s nothing but rich lads with weak heads and no morals.”
I had to hold back my laugh. “Order of the Gargoyles?” Was he kidding me?
When he gave me that snooty look down the length of his nose, I had to ask. “Were you in this secret club, Rafe?”
“It’s a very old order that’s long existed at Cardinal College. Technically, I still am a member.”
I glanced at the paper and back at him. His jaw was set, and he looked very peeved. “Do you know those kids?”
“Oh, yes. And I think it’s time I paid them a visit.”
He looked so forbidding, I put a hand on the sleeve of his navy cashmere sweater. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing like what they deserve.” With that, I had to be contented, as he left Cardinal Woolsey’s with a determined stride. I ran to the window and watched him head in the direction of Cardinal College.
A few days later, I was holding the door open for a woman who’d made the trip to Oxford specially to visit Cardinal Woolsey’s. An avid knitter, she’d stocked up, buying so much wool and patterns and magazines that her arms were too full to manage the door. I was delighted.
After we’d said our last goodbyes, I went back inside, reminding myself it was really time I put out another newsletter. I should also update our website. People all around the world shopped at my store, some bought online and some would drive miles to come here in person. The online store was a growing and valuable part of my business.
I usually did that kind of work at night, but I was making notes when the cheerful bells went, signaling I had a new customer. I turned with a smile of welcome on my face, which froze when I recognized the woman who entered. She was tall and slim, with long, dark hair, intense, dark eyes, and a face that at first glance appeared beautiful but was really perhaps more stunning. She did everything she could with that face, making up her dark eyes with darker shadow and keeping her lipstick fresh and her hair nearly always newly brushed. Her wardrobe was expensive and meant not to look that way. Her name was Pamela Black, and she was one of the last people I’d expected or wanted to see. Ever.
She smiled a bright, happy smile and came toward me with her arms out. “Lucy. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were here in Oxford. One of my best friends ever. I’m so excited to see you.”
Before I could do anything more than gape helplessly at her, she was wrapping me in her arms. I smelled the familiar scent of her and felt myself gag.
I pulled away as soon as I could. “Pamela. What are you doing here?”
It would be foolish to say that I had left Boston and come to England to
