The Accidental Vampire (3 page)

Victor wasn't pleased at this news, but was more concerned with the displeasure now on Brunswick's face.

"I hope they all don't bring friends or the house is going to be crowded," the officer commented, and then shook his head and said, "Come, I've kept you standing here long enough. I'll show you to your table."

When Officer Brunswick turned to lead the way through the crowded restaurant, DJ started to follow, but Victor caught his arm to hold him back and asked, "What does he mean by '
the house will be crowded'
!"

"I told you Elvi invited us down for the week," DJ reminded him.

"Yes," he acknowledged impatiently. "But I expected we'd be staying at a hotel, not someone's house."

"It's a bed-and-breakfast. Casey Cottage. Elvi owns it," DJ murmured. "It'll be fine."

"Are you boys coming or has the thought of competition scared you off?"

Victor stiffened. Captain Brunswick had paused at an empty booth halfway up the right-hand side of the restaurant, one Victor was sure hadn't been empty when they entered. No one had left the restaurant, however, so he supposed whoever had been seated there when they'd entered, had now joined the crowd milling around the bar at the front of the restaurant.

"This job is looking more and more interesting by the minute," DJ commented under his breath as they moved forward to join Brunswick.

Victor's only response was a grunt. To him, the situation seemed to be growing more complicated by the minute, and more troublesome.

"Here we are." Captain Brunswick stood blocking the far side of the booth, obviously expecting them to squeeze into the nearer side together.

Victor immediately stepped aside and gestured DJ in. Claustrophobic as he found cars, there was no way he was going to be trapped on the inside of a booth.

Making a face, DJ slipped quickly along the seat, scrunching himself up in the corner. Victor settled next to him, ignoring the way the younger immortal proceeded to mutter and shift about with discomfort. The booth was really far too small for two grown men to sit side by side; especially two grown men well over six feet tall and half as wide. They were both built like warriors of old, which was handy when it came to hunting. Size intimidated and any advantage was useful.

"Mabel will join us as soon as she and Elvi arrive," Brunswick commented as the conversations in the room began again. The mariachi band was apparently taking a break, but the patrons were at least no longer silent, though they were still staring and Victor suspected the conversations being held around the room were mostly about him and DJ.

Victor ignored the glances cast their way and nodded in response to Brunswick's comment, but still had no idea who Mabel was and still didn't care. His only interest in Port Henry was to meet this Elvi so he could sort out if she truly was one of them or they could get in the car and head home.

Victor used to enjoy his work. However, he'd found himself growing weary of late. He was, in effect, a hunter tired of the hunt. Rather useless he supposed. On the other hand, Victor acknowledged to himself, he had no special desire to be at home either. He didn't seem to be satisfied or at peace anywhere anymore, but then he never really had been since his wife, Marion's, death. He also found himself tired a lot of the time, his dissatisfaction increasing. It was something he tried not to think about too often. He may be bored and weary with life right now, but had no wish to go rogue as many other of his kind had gone at this stage.

"Mabel!" DJ said suddenly, apparently just placing the name. "She's Elvi's friend and the co-owner of the restaurant, and the bed-and-breakfast. Right?"

Brunswick nodded. "Her best friend. If Mabel doesn't like you, you can forget about Elvi. Those two have been thick as thieves since they were kids. She's—"

He paused abruptly when the room suddenly quieted again. Leaning sideways, Brunswick peered toward the front door and then got abruptly to his feet. "Another one's arrived. Excuse me."

Chapter Two

Elvi was blow-drying her hair when Mabel knocked at the door and shouted something. Frowning, she turned off the hair dryer and called, "What?"

"Are you almost ready?" the woman said impatiently.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." Elvi quickly began to wrap the cord around the dryer, her gaze sliding longingly over the tub as she did. She'd taken a shower but would have preferred a bath. Elvi loved her tub. It was a large, spa tub with water jets. She'd spared no expense in purchasing it, figuring she deserved it. After all, she'd had to give up her lovely, king-sized bed for a coffin; a luxurious bath seemed only fair.

At the time, Mabel hadn't been at all sure if she should be bathing
or
showering. After all, there was never any mention of Dracula ever bathing. However, after a lifetime of good hygiene, Elvi refused to go without, dead or not. If her skin began to slough off when wet, then so be it. At least it would be clean dead skin.

Fortunately, that hadn't happened. Elvi had been showering and bathing for five years without any unusual repercussions that she could see. Thank God.

"We're running late," Mabel called out.

Rolling her eyes, Elvi set the hair dryer in the cupboard, crossed to the door, and opened it.

"Of course we're running late. You let me sleep in," she pointed out testily, stepping into the bedroom with just a large bath sheet wrapped around her.

"That's gratitude for you," Mabel muttered, shoving a glass of blood into her hand. "Drink this and then get dressed. I laid out the new dress on your bed."

Elvi raised her eyebrows as she gulped down half the cold, thick liquid, then lowered the glass to point out "I don't have a bed, Mabel. I have a coffin. I only
wish
I had a bed."

Making a face, Mabel took away the half-empty glass and gave her a push to get her moving. "Dress."

Elvi moved toward the casket in the center of her large, nearly empty room, her shoulders slumping miserably. God, she missed her bed. A king-sized, deluxe model, she and Harry had picked it out together shortly before his death. It had been like sleeping on a cloud. Now she slept in a crate.

Elvi scowled at the dark, walnut casket as she paused beside it.

Catching her expression Mabel said, "Maybe Brendan can do something with your coffin to make it more comfortable."

Her scowl deepened. She'd already put a bedcover in it. Anything else would make it so she didn't fit, or nearly, and she found it claustrophobic enough without making the interior smaller.

"I doubt there's anything he could do," she said, not wanting Mabel to bother the local funeral home director. The man had already gone to great trouble, layering the bottom with dirt from both Mexico and her garden, and then installing a special liner so that the smell and dirt didn't seep through the satin. She didn't want to trouble him further. Elvi hated to be a bother.

She pulled on the dress Mabel had set out, tugged it into place, then peered down at herself and grimaced. It was new, but very much like all her other work dresses. Long, black, and sleek, it had a low neckline and was form-fitting all the way down to her knees where a slit started, allowing some movement. It would restrict every step she took and flash a good deal of lower leg as well.

This was another of her pet peeves. The wardrobe of the undead. It just didn't suit her style at all.

"I wish I didn't have to wear these stupid dresses," she muttered, reaching back to do up the zipper.

"Everyone gets a kick out of them." Mabel brushed her hands aside to take over the task. "It's what they expect."

"Hmm," Elvi murmured. "Would they ever be disappointed to see me running around here in jogging pants and T-shirts."

"You can't do that this week," Mabel told her firmly. "We have a full house of guests."

"Do we?" she asked with surprise. After that fateful trip that had ended Elvi's life, she and Mabel had gone into business together, starting a Mexican restaurant they'd called Bella Black's. The name had been Mabel's idea. It had also been Mabel's idea to sell the house she'd once shared with her deceased husband and move in with Elvi, who lived just three very short blocks from the restaurant. It had made things much easier for both of them. Still, with just the two of them, the house had echoed with emptiness and soon Mabel was suggesting they turn the old Victorian mansion into a bed-and-breakfast as a second income in case the restaurant floundered and failed.

Not that such an event was likely. Bella's was busy every night of the week, thanks to Elvi's status as a sort of town mascot. Still, Elvi had spent the better part of her marriage as a housewife. She enjoyed cooking and looking after others. She might not be able to eat anymore, but Elvi could still cook and did so every chance she got. She loved to touch and smell the food she could no longer consume, and watching others enjoy her efforts was as close as she could get to enjoying them herself. So, they'd renovated the old, Victorian manor, finishing the attic and putting in three bedrooms with en suite bathrooms there, and then named it Casey Cottage after Elvi's daughter.

The only trouble was that most of the guests were locals who stayed at the bed-and-breakfast simply to be able to say they'd slept in the home of a vampire. They had certain expectations as to what a vampire should look like and how they should behave, thanks to shows such as
Elvira, Mistress of the Dark
and so on, so she was forced to wear these ridiculous outfits at the restaurant as well as when they had guests at the bed-and-breakfast. Which was most of the time. The Mistress of the Dark had a lot to answer for, in Elvi's mind. Including the fact that everyone now called her Elvi rather than Ellen, the name she'd been born with, or even Ellie, which was what most of her friends had called her before she died.

"Here, don't forget your bells."

Elvi grimaced as she took the anklet laced with bells. They'd been a gift from Mabel right after her turning. She'd claimed she thought they were charming, but Elvi knew the truth was they kept her from sneaking up on the other woman and startling her. Mabel had never admitted it, but Elvi knew she had been somewhat frightened of her after her death. If not for their long friendship and her loyalty, Elvi might have been lost. So she'd worn the silly bells home and continued to wear them as they both adjusted to the changes in her life.

Besides, it was all supposed to fit her image as a sultry vampire. Elvi didn't feel sultry in the getup, she just felt ridiculous. But she donned the item without protest. The townspeople were the only reason she'd survived this cataclysmic change, and their patronage at her restaurant gave her the ability to make a living. If they wished to see her in black gowns and bells, then that's what they'd get.

"Ready?" Mabel asked once Elvi straightened.

"I have to put up my hair," she said.

"Leave it down tonight," Mabel suggested.

"But—"

"It looks better down."

Sighing, Elvi ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she could look in a mirror and be sure it wasn't all wild. But everyone knew vampires didn't have a reflection, although she still had directly after her death. Thinking it must be something that happened gradually and not wishing to see this last proof of the loss of her humanity, Elvi had removed the mirrors from her bedroom and bathroom. Understanding, as always, Mabel had then removed the mirrors in the rest of the house, leaving only the one in her own, and in the guest bathrooms and bedrooms. Elvi had to depend entirely on others to be assured she looked all right.

"Do I need makeup?" she asked.

"You never need makeup," Mabel said dryly. "But put on some of that wine-colored lipstick. It looks good on you."

Elvi moved into the bathroom to do so, sliding the tube along her lips from practice in the absence of a mirror.

"Perfect," Mabel pronounced when she returned to the bedroom. "Come on."

Elvi was silent on the way to the restaurant, her gaze taking in Mabel's pale face and shadowed eyes with concern. The woman had claimed she'd let Elvi sleep in because she'd seemed weary, but Mabel had been looking pale and weary as well lately. The woman was sixty-two years old and should have been easing her workload. Instead, between the restaurant, the bed-and-breakfast, and the daytime chores she did that Elvi couldn't do, she had more to do now than ever before. It worried her.

Mabel wasn't just her friend she was a lifeline. Without her, Elvi was sure she wouldn't have survived what happened to her and constantly fretted over what she'd do when age finally claimed the other woman, an issue that was constantly on her mind lately. They'd already lost both their husbands and several friends to death's grasp. How many more years could Mabel evade the reaper? Elvi was hoping for at least twenty, but that was if they were lucky. If they weren't, she may have much less. The thought depressed her.

"Here we are," Mabel said cheerfully as she parked.

Elvi unbuckled her seat belt and slid out of the car to follow her to the back door of the restaurant, her gaze moving briefly upward. The sky overhead was star studded and clear, without a cloud in sight, and she thought that it must have been just as clear a day, with the sun baking down and warming everything.

The sun was something else Elvi missed terribly. She'd always been a summer person, enjoying the sun and the flowers, trees and grass it encouraged to grow. Now she could only enjoy those flowers and trees by the solar lights that lined her garden. If asked, she couldn't have honestly answered which she missed more, food or sunlight.

Her gaze shot forward as Mabel opened the door and a wave of noise poured over them. It sounded like the diners were right there in the kitchen rather than off in the front of the restaurant. Elvi had never heard it so loud.

Frowning, she slipped past Mabel and crossed the kitchen to step into the small hall between the front and back of the restaurant. She peered with amazement through the beads, stunned at the number of people crammed into the dining room beyond.