The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar (Sam Quinn Book 1)
Page 27
“Have you, now?” He shared a look with me before focusing on Russell again. “Isn’t that interesting.”
“Sire?” Russell’s dark eyes looked back and forth between us.
Clive rose from the window seat, pulling me along. Leaning over the coffee table, he swiped through a tablet until classical music was playing throughout the room and then motioned for Russell to move closer. “Sam was just telling me that a ghost waylaid her to say—and I quote—’They’re coming. He’ll be killed.’”
“Ghost?” Russell looked more confused than concerned. “A ghost told her?”
“Yes. When are they due?” Clive dropped my hand and began to pace.
“Tonight. Lafitte’s people requested, quite politely, an audience with you.” Russell spared me a wary look, before crossing to the fireplace to speak with Clive. “If you believe Lafitte is moving against you, we can get you out.”
Clive turned an incredulous look on Russell. “You’d have me run and hide?” Shaking his head, he patted Russell on the shoulder. “No, old friend, that I will not do. We will meet the envoys, take their measure, and if they lift a hand against us, we will slaughter them all. Afterwards, we’ll send their remains back to Lafitte in a box with a bow.”
Russell glanced at me and then leaned in closer to Clive. “Sire, perhaps we should—”
“No. We let them come. I am very interested in who arrives, and even more interested to see if any of our own nocturne fight with them against us. Leticia has allies I’ve yet to ferret out. Tonight will let us know exactly who our enemies are.” Patting Russell’s arm again, he added, “Trust me. It’s better this way. We’ll know who stands with us and who has betrayed their oath.”
Nodding, Russell conceded, “Yes. You’re right.” He held out a dark hand for Clive to shake. “I’ll speak with Godfrey, but no one else. If the three of us can’t take them out, it has been an honor to be your second.”
Shaking Russell’s hand, Clive said, “The honor is mine, my friend. If I don’t survive the night, you know what to do.”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Clive nodded. “Go then and prepare.”
When the door closed behind Russell, I stalked over to Clive and drilled a finger into his chest. “What the hell is this ‘if I don’t survive’ bullshit? You’re not dying. And there are four of us, not three!”
Clive was shaking his head before I stopped talking. “No. This is vampire business. I won’t have you hurt because of political maneuvering. Stay with Owen. He’ll look after you.”
When he tried to pull me close, I shoved him back. “That’s who you think I am? The going gets tough and I need to be protected? Screw that! I’m not hiding anymore, remember? If there’s a fight, I’m in it. The four of us are going to wipe the floor with those New Orleans usurpers.”
Studying me, he shook his head. “I can’t lose you. I won’t. You’re stronger, yes, but you’re still learning.”
“Clive.” I moved forward, resting my hand on his chest. “I love you, but I will kick your ass if you ever say anything this stupid again.” When he opened his mouth to respond, I moved my hand to cover it. “No. We’re in this together. Whatever it is, we’re together. Battling syphilitic zombies or moonlit strolls. Good, bad, or insanely weird, it doesn’t matter. Partners, okay?”
He kissed my palm and then moved my hand. “Point taken. Are you sure you’re up for a vampire bloodbath?”
“That’s my favorite kind of bloodbath.”
Shaking his head, he twined his fingers with mine. “Do the zombies have to syphilitic? Being zombies isn’t enough?”
Shrugging, I swung our joined hands. “Seemed worse. So, we have visitors coming and I need to change.”
Clive raised his eyebrows and looked down at my hoodie, threadbare jeans, and running shoes. “I like it.”
“Nope. I need to score higher on the badass scale.” Lifting our joined hands to my lips, I kissed his fingers. “You, Russell, and Godfrey go work out the battle plan and then let me know my part. I’m going to go dive deep into that closet you keep adding clothes to and find something that says, ‘I will fuck you up and then giggle as I lick your blood from my fingers.’”
To preorder
The Dead Don’t Drink at Lafitte’s
Sam Quinn, book 2
click here.
Acknowledgments
I have been blessed to have many intelligent, kind, and witty women in my life. They’ve been the ones to bolster and push, making every step of publishing a little less scary. They’ve been the ones to offer chocolate when the journey was rough. Luckily for me, they’ve also been the ones who understood the importance of a well-made cocktail (I’m looking at you, Roseann). So, to all the amazing women in my life, thank you!
The person who has read every iteration of this story is my incredible friend and critique partner C.R. Grissom. Thank you for the advice and cheerleading, and for never wavering from your absolute belief that Sam & Clive would eventually be published. So, in no particular order, here are the fabulous women who read, offering encouragement and feedback. Thank you to Barbara Kelly, Roseann Rasul, Norma Jean Bell, Tara Sheets, Christy Hovland, Kimberly MacCarron, Maichen Liu-Grossman, Sara Carvalho, Marlene Spector, Suzanne Miller-Moody, Amanda Lease, Mary Beth Allman, Carol Mack, Mim Ostenso, Monica Stoffal, and Elaine Watkins.
Thank you to my brilliant agent Sarah Younger at the Nancy Yost Literary Agency. Thank you for understanding and supporting my need to tell this story. Thank you to my wonderful editor Peter Sentfleben, who has the gift to give spot-on insight in the gentlest terms.
Continuing on a theme, thank you to my amazing daughters Harper and Grace, both of whom consider it a given that their mom is an author. Thank you to my dad who always asks when that book with the bar overlooking the ocean is going to be published. That one’s his favorite. And a very big thank you to my husband Gregory for sharing my dream with me, and for the countless times we pondered which drinks should be paired with the reading of which books at The Slaughtered Lamb.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar. If you enjoyed Sam and Clive’s first adventure together, please consider leaving a review or chatting about it with your book-loving friends. When you’re a new writer, word of mouth means so much!
Love,
Seana
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The Dead Don’t Drink at Lafitte’s
Sam Quinn, book 2
I’m Sam Quinn, the werewolf, book-nerd owner of The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar. Things have been busy lately. While the near-constant attempts on my life have ceased, I now have a vampire gentleman caller. I’ve been living with Clive and the rest of his vampires for a few weeks while The Slaughtered Lamb is being rebuilt. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.
My mother was a wicche and long dormant abilities are starting to make themselves known. If I’d had a choice, necromancy wouldn’t have been my top pick, but it’s coming in handy. A ghost warns me someone is coming to kill Clive. When I rush back to the nocturne, I find vamps from New Orleans readying an attack. One of the benefits of vampires looking down on werewolves is no one expects much of me. They don’t expect it right up until I take their heads.
Now, Clive and I are setting out for New Orleans to take the fight back to the source. Vampires are masters of the long game. Revenge plots are often decades, if not centuries, in the making. We came expecting one enemy, but quickly learn we have darker forces scheming against us. Good thing I’m the secret weapon they never see coming.
The Wicche’s Glass Tavern
Sam Quinn, book 3
Whether I’ve learned enough or not, the time h
as come. I need to face off with my aunt, the woman who’s been trying to kill me ever since I was a baby. In her mind, I’m an abomination. My father’s werewolf blood sullied the long, pure line of Corey wicches. Whereas, I think she’s a total psycho who trucks with demons to get what she wants. Unfortunately, what she wants is my death.
I’ve put together the Fellowship of the Sam, with werewolves, vampires, wicches, a gorgon, a Fury, a half-demon, a couple of dragon-shifters, and the fae. It’ll be one hell of a battle. Hopefully, San Francisco will still be standing when we’re done.
And for something completely different…
Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
This romantic comedy was my first book published. Remember, don’t judge a book by its (truly hideous) cover.
Nobody said a fresh start would be easy
A clean slate is exactly what Katie Gallagher needs, and Bar Harbor, Maine, is the best place to get it. Except the cottage her grandmother left her is overrun with woodland creatures, and the police chief, Aiden Cavanaugh, seems determined to arrest her! Katie had no idea she’d broken his heart fifteen years ago…
About the Author
About Seana Kelly
Seana Kelly lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two daughters, two dogs, and one fish. When not dodging her family, hiding in the garage to write, she’s working as a high school teacher-librarian. She’s an avid reader and re-reader who misses her favorite characters when it’s been too long between visits.
She’s a two-time Golden Heart® Award finalist and is represented by the delightful and effervescent Sarah E. Younger of the Nancy Yost Literary Agency
You can follow Seana on Twitter for tweets about books and dogs or on Instagram for beautiful pictures of books and dogs (kidding). She also loves collecting photos of characters and settings for the books she writes. As she’s a huge reader, young adult and adult, expect lots of recommendations, as well.