Mrs. Morris and the Vampire

by Traci Wilton

  Serenity shrugged slightly. “He sensed that I had . . . reservations.”

  “As you should have!” Brandy said, standing again.

  “Is that why he gave you the star sapphire?” An expensive gift with a hint that her life would be full of such treasures.

  “He said it was his mother’s. Star sapphires are a powerful talisman for a necromancer.”

  “What is that?” Charlene had never heard the word before.

  “Someone who can raise the dead,” Evelyn answered. “Serenity has the gift, like me and Amara. We used to hold séances in this house.”

  “So last night’s disappearance was about convincing you of his power so that you could both be immortal. Not Elisabeta or anybody else,” Charlene said.

  “He promised. Just us two.”

  “But then he was killed instead.” What had the plan been and who had interfered? The lights had gone out at midnight. Had that been part of the plan? Who had shut and locked the door?

  “Yes.” Serenity brought the damp tissue to her nose.

  “And the fact that his dead body was just a dead body, and didn’t turn to dust, doesn’t make you doubt his story in the light of day?” Evelyn asked.

  Serenity sighed deeply. “I don’t know for sure how he died. The officer said a hole in the heart. Was it given by the stake that I woke up next to on the floor?” She sobbed in fear. “Maybe something went wrong with the spell I did.”

  Evelyn was across the room in four strides. “What spell?”

  “He’d had a taste of my blood so that his spirit could find mine in the universe. If we lost each other during the transition.” Serenity’s fingers shook. “I don’t know vampire lore—what was supposed to happen?”

  “Poof,” Evelyn snapped. “Dust to ancient dust. It’s called lore because it’s mostly make-believe. Serenity, he wasn’t a vampire. He needed you to become immortal and was going to risk your life.”

  “Alaric loved me.” She hiccupped. “He said he knew it the instant he saw me.”

  “When was that?” Charlene asked.

  “At the coffee shop, two weeks ago. I’d ordered a soy latte and had a seat inside. He chatted me up, saying he was new in town. The rest is history.”

  “He was trifling with your life,” Evelyn said. “He is no more a vampire than I am.”

  Brandy raised a clenched fist. “It’s a good thing that somebody already killed him, or I would do it myself.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Charlene accepted a glass of wine with grateful fingers from Brandy. Serenity had fled the room in tears and Evelyn had followed.

  “What a nightmare,” Charlene declared. “Is there a way to break her free from whatever he’s done to her?”

  “I’ll do a spiritual cleansing for her and pour sage tea down her throat. She wants to make an altar for him!” Brandy took a large drink of the crisp white wine. “How could he have deceived her like that?”

  “Serenity is young, and the idea of eternal love is romantic.” Charlene sipped and set her glass down on the coffee table.

  “My daughter was going to let Alaric kill her to bring them both back. There are no white light spells or magick for that, only dark.” Brandy shivered. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

  “You have to stop being so emphatic about that or you’ll attract the wrong attention,” Charlene only half-teased, thinking of Sam.

  “I want to talk to this Elisabeta first, and then Orpheus. Head of the vampire coven in New Orleans? That—argh.” Brandy shook her fist in the air. “He played me and I don’t like it.”

  “Well, he’s staying at the Longmire Hotel.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He asked me about you—said you were sexy. I wouldn’t give him your number, so he told me where he was staying if you wanted to look him up.”

  “Oh, I sure do.” Brandy’s eyes glinted with malice.

  “He was supposed to check out today, but is hanging around a few days.”

  “Perfect. To hell with lunch. Let’s go.” Brandy stood.

  “Hang on a sec. I’ll go home and you run your errands. Do you know where Elisabeta lives?”

  “Probably the house Alaric rented. The tramp.”

  Charlene agreed with that assessment. “Did Orpheus say last night whether or not he knew Alaric?”

  “No. He evaded the question. But Orpheus is not the one I want to confront first.”

  Confront? Charlene drank her wine, dread a knot in her stomach. Brandy was on edge.

  “I want to have a heart-to-heart with Elisabeta to see if she believed Alaric was a real vampire. What if Alaric duped her too somehow? And you, Charlene, are coming with me.”

  “What?” Charlene shook her head immediately. “I can’t!” She’d promised Sam not to get involved.

  “You have a knack for getting people to open up to you, and I need you to save Serenity. Not only from jail, but who knows what dark ties that animal may still have her bound by.” Brandy tapped her fingernail to her glass, the opal twinkling. “How did Alaric find her to ‘bump’ into her at the coffee shop? That was no accident.”

  Charlene wondered if the act had been a deliberate pickup by a predator. He called himself a vampire, but who was Alaric Mayar really?

  “We can’t just barge into Alaric’s house,” she said.

  “He’s dead.”

  “But Elisabeta still lives there, unless she’s fled.”

  Brandy rose abruptly, plucked Charlene’s glass from her fingers, and placed them both on the table. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

  “Brandy!”

  “You owe me for all the times you’ve wrongfully suspected me. I’m calling in what’s due.” Brandy speared Charlene with her bright-green eyes.

  Charlene wished she could forget the instances where Brandy had appeared guilty, but wasn’t, and her shoulders slumped. “Fine. But we can’t just break into the house. We have to knock, and if nobody answers, we go home.”

  Brandy speed-walked from the living area to the foyer. “Get your jacket. After the rental house, we’ll give Orpheus a surprise visit at his hotel. I can’t believe he claims to be a vampire too. He mocked Alaric the entire night.”

  Charlene swallowed the words “I can’t” and asked, “How so? We should definitely tell the police about that.”

  “Calling him a fake. A poser. I’m going to blame the copious amount of sangria for my lowered guard.”

  Charlene shrugged into her lightweight coat and grabbed her purse, following Brandy out of the house and into her sporty red Porsche.

  “Great car.”

  “It’s fun in the fall, crunching through the leaves. She goes in the garage over the winter.” Brandy patted the dash and revved the engine, peeling out of the driveway with the dogs barking at them excitedly from behind.

  The streets were relatively quiet for a fall Saturday and they made good time, though Charlene was in no hurry to get to Alaric’s rental house.

  Serenity had reluctantly given them the address, which was on the historic square around the Commons.

  Brandy glanced at her. “You should see yourself! You’re white as a ghost,” she exclaimed. “This should be a piece of cake for you. Sticking your nose into other people’s business is second nature.”

  “Very funny. I promised Detective Holden that I’d stay out of trouble. He’ll have a fit if he finds out.”

  “Dear Sam, your champion. Well, he doesn’t have to know, and if he catches wind of this, you can always say I forced you to come.”

  “I can take responsibility for my own actions, thank you.” Charlene opened the door after Brandy parked before the house. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I have to know what was going on here.” Brandy grabbed something from her hobo bag and stuffed it into her coat pocket, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

  “What was that?” Charlene closed the passenger door and waited on the sidewalk. “You’re not bringing a gun, are you?”


  “No! Just some special herbs in the event we need to temporarily immobilize her until we’re gone.” Brandy slammed the car door and they both jumped guiltily at the noise.

  “And here I left my pepper spray at home.” Charlene recalled an anti-bad-spirit sachet Evelyn had once brought to the B and B. “Guess being a witch gives you a few more options.”

  “Stick with me, kid,” Brandy said in all seriousness. “Seriously. We stick together.”

  The historic home had two levels and a shingle roof. Two red brick chimneys rose on either side of the house. The curtains were drawn tight over the front windows. The bright fall day had turned gray with clouds, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. The small yard was overgrown with weeds. The tiny wooden porch had a broken light and two ghoulish pumpkins next to the door.

  Not exactly welcoming. Charlene kept Serenity’s tearstained face in mind as she straightened her back and gave a firm knock.

  “Holy crow.” Brandy glanced around nervously. “What are you doing?”

  Charlene glared at her friend. “Seeing if anyone’s home. You want to talk with Elisabeta, correct?”

  “I was kind of hoping we’d be able to break in and snoop, actually,” Brandy confessed.

  A flap of curtain informed her there was someone home. Charlene’s pulse skipped. “Did you see that?”

  “Yep.” Brandy sighed. “The curtain moved. Someone’s inside.”

  “Good, our trip wasn’t wasted.” It was clear that Brandy needed direction, so Charlene hit the door again with the flat of her fist. “Elisabeta, please open the door. We just want to ask a few questions, that’s all. We know you’re there.”

  “You’re good,” Brandy murmured at her back.

  The click of the door being unlocked sounded, then it opened a crack. A delicate pale chin stuck out, followed by a wan face, cheeks streaked with black makeup. “What do you want? This is a house in mourning.”

  “We just want to talk about Alaric,” Charlene said.

  “Who killed him? Do you know?” Brandy asked in outrage over Charlene’s shoulder.

  Elisabeta tried to close the door.

  Charlene stuck her foot into the opening and Brandy pushed through.

  Elisabeta breathed heavily as she confronted them in her front foyer. She was wrapped in a black silk robe too big for her body—probably Alaric’s. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

  “Oh, I do. More than you can ever know.” Brandy’s voice was steely. “You know who I am?”

  Elisabeta drew herself up. “You’re the mother witch. I noticed you and the crone’s auras last night at the ball, along with Serenity’s youthful gold glow. Not that Serenity was any maiden.”

  “Watch yourself,” Brandy warned.

  Charlene stepped a few feet inside the dark and gloomy place. There was a fireplace in the living area in the center of the house, though no fire burned. A leather couch took up one wall and there were shelves crammed with gold and porcelain knickknacks. A small chest of jewels was open on the coffee table, filled with gold chains and gemstones. How had Alaric earned his living? Though this house was small, it was in the historic district and had to cost a pretty penny.

  “Or you’ll do what?” Elisabeta sneered. “Our lover, our master, is dead. You can’t do anything to me.” She pounded her palm to her heart.

  Vision adjusting to the dark interior, Charlene got a better view of Elisabeta. Without all the fancy clothes and makeup, she seemed older than she had last night. Course, years of donating blood to a wannabe vampire could age any girl.

  “My daughter is also grieving. What did Alaric do to her?” Brandy demanded. “She wouldn’t have gone along with some elaborate scheme to be immortal. Did you know about the spell?”

  Elisabeta belted the large robe around her skinny body tightly, her long neck showing red marks. Not from fangs, but hickeys. Her cheeks were hollow, her blue eyes luminous with golden flecks. She got into Brandy’s face. “Of course I knew—I helped him plan. Your baby slut was all over him, eager to be his eternal love.”

  Before Charlene could defuse the situation, Brandy smacked the woman so hard that Elisabeta’s knees buckled and she clasped her hand to her face. When she straightened, Charlene saw the hint of tears clouding her eyes.

  “Get out of here,” she hissed. “Or I’ll call the police.”

  Charlene cringed, imagining an irate Sam. “Let’s all sit down. Calmly. We’ll ask a few questions and then be gone.” She spoke as pleasantly as possible though the tension in the room was off the charts.

  “Why should I?” Elisabeta lifted her nose. “I’ve been assaulted.”

  “You asked for it,” Brandy countered.

  Charlene reached for Elisabeta, palm up. “We want to find who killed Alaric. You can help us.” If you didn’t do it, she thought. “Bring him justice.”

  Keeping a safe distance from Brandy, Elisabeta led them to the couch. The only light came from candles on the fireplace mantel. Pictures in ornate frames crowded the walls. Wealthy objects appeared to have been scattered around without particular care.

  Elisabeta, trembling with anger, took one side of the sofa, and Brandy the other. Charlene perched on an antique chair. She had to calm their hostess down. “We’re sorry to barge in on you this way.”

  “Got any wine?” Brandy eyed the room and looked down a hall that led to a kitchen. “What do you serve your guests—blood?”

  Elisabeta ignored her, shifted against the rolled arm of the sofa, then turned her attention to Charlene. “Ask your questions, and then leave me alone.”

  “Happy to do so.” Charlene unbuttoned her coat. The heat in the room was stuffy and making her light-headed. “What was Alaric’s plan last night? Was it an elaborate hoax?”

  “He couldn’t even get that right,” Brandy taunted. “What a fool you were to believe in him.”

  Elisabeta kept her shoulder to Brandy. “He wanted to do something spectacular to prove his immortality to Serenity. And now—” she glared at Brandy—“he is dead. You have a lot of nerve coming to our home like the injured party!”

  “Did he really believe he was a vampire?” Charlene asked, interrupting the ladies staring at each other with fury. “Did you?”

  “Alaric was human,” the woman admitted, “but he believed with the right power he could transition to vampire.”

  “Serenity. Her supernatural power. You used my daughter.” Brandy’s voice quaked. “You should have warned Serenity that he wasn’t real. Don’t you have any heart?”

  “Go to hell.” Elisabeta tucked her legs under her, unconcerned.

  “Had nothing gone wrong, my daughter would also be dead.” Brandy shivered. “There is no spell for immortality.”

  Elisabeta rubbed the sleeve of the silk robe. “We’d divined that two in the morning would be the best time to perform the necromancy ritual. But . . . I came home after the ball and he wasn’t here. He was supposed to be waiting for us downstairs. Serenity should have told you this already. She was here.”

  Brandy seethed. “Now that he’s dead, what do you believe?”

  Her shoulders bowed. “I don’t know what to think. It hasn’t sunk in yet that he’s actually gone. Alaric wasn’t supposed to die.”

  Charlene fanned her face for air. “Who might want him dead? Do you know Orpheus?”

  Elisabeta’s mouth twisted. “Orpheus and Alaric were pretty tight when we lived in New Orleans.”

  “Together?” Charlene scanned the room for evidence of roommates, but it was tidy besides the clutter of stuff. Nothing personal.

  “In the same coven, yes. All of us. NOLA has an amazing vampire scene with parties and festivals.” Elisabeta smoothed the end of the belt, tying and untying it. “They were really close but had a falling-out—I can’t say why. Orpheus followed him here.”

  “How many of you moved here to Salem?” Not even shoes left by the door for a clue.

  “Just the three of us. Alaric wanted to start over and do it
better—that really pissed off Orpheus. It’s no coincidence that he’d be in Salem at the ball the very night Alaric died.” Her eyes narrowed as they lasered on Brandy. “I don’t believe in coincidences.” She tapped her bottom lip, then suddenly sat forward.

  “What?” Brandy asked.

  Like an actress, Elisabeta paused, holding her audience enthralled until she delivered the final line. “If Alaric wasn’t a real vampire, then why did his skin blister in the sun and why did he hate garlic so much? It physically made him ill.” She sighed. “I wanted to believe in him . . . is that so bad? I loved him, through all the craziness, and now he’s gone.”

  “It didn’t bother you that he wanted you to share him with Serenity, a powerful witch?” Charlene rested her hand on her knee—nonthreatening.

  Elisabeta jumped to her feet. “What are you suggesting? That I killed him? I think it’s time for you to go.”

  Charlene stood up. “If I loved someone, I wouldn’t want to share, that’s all.” She grabbed her jacket and purse.

  “Listen, the whole vampire scene is one orgy after another.” Elisabeta’s voice lowered. “No room for jealousy. Ask Orpheus.”

  Brandy also rose, hobo bag over her arm. “What do you mean?”

  “Orpheus was jealous of Alaric. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jammed that stake through my lover’s heart.”

  “Is your roommate home?” Charlene asked. “So you don’t have to be alone in your grief.”

  “I am alone.” She raised her chin like gothic royalty.

  They moved toward the front door when a loud noise erupted from upstairs. Elisabeta appeared startled by the sound.

  If she lived alone, that meant someone was there, possibly the killer. “Call the police,” she told Elisabeta.

  Brandy pulled out her herbs and dashed up the stairs—Charlene had no choice but to follow her friend.

  “It’s fine!” Elisabeta called from the foyer. “Come back down.”

  “What if they have an innocent girl up here? A victim to their stupid games?” Brandy stopped at the top of the stairs, winded.

  It was so dark upstairs that it was hard to believe it was two in the afternoon. Charlene used her phone’s flashlight to show the switch in the hall.