Detective Miles Corbin arrived at the fog-shrouded Blackwood Manor just as the cold, relentless autumn rain began falling heavily. The ancient stone gargoyles seemed to weep black tears, their grotesque faces silently watching every single one of his movements. Flashing blue and red lights painted the dripping trees with an unnerving, almost psychedelic, and completely inappropriate carnival-like glow. A uniformed officer with a tired face and a poorly fitting raincoat met him at the colossal, imposing oak front door. “The body is in the library, on the expensive Persian rug, just as the hysterical housekeeper first reported finding it.” Corbin stepped inside, the chilling air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the faint, sweet perfume of decay. Sprawled on the floor was Lord Alistair Blackwood, a man known for his vast fortune and even vaster collection of enemies.