Last Vampire Standing (11 page)

“Hello, Mr. Gorman,” I greeted him pleasantly. “Have you been on vacation?”

Gorman blinked, not expecting my warm welcome. Okay, lukewarm. I smiled sweetly back. His eerily light blue eyes narrowed, crinkling his weathered skin. “What are you up to, vampire?”

His voice was as gravelly as ever, and his personality just as grating. I stuck to my kill-him-with-kindness policy.

“I’m just wrapping up my tour,” I answered him, then turned to my audience to do the closing spiel.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me on the Old Coast Ghost Walk this evening. We appreciate your patronage, and, if you want to turn in an evaluation form, you can get a discount on a future tour.”

“But,” Gorman yelled, “don’t count on takin’ it with the vampire.”

“Why not?” one of the tourists asked.

“ ’Cause you never know when she might get herself kilt.”

“Stupid man. She’s wearing a pirate getup, not a kilt,” I heard an older lady say as she and her husband toddled off. I grinned at the couple, letting Gorman’s comment pass. After all, this is what we did. Gorman threatened, and I ignored him. I didn’t underestimate him, though; I had a feeling he would try my patience tonight.

“You’re Gorman?” Kevin asked, clomping closer. “Ms. Marinelli’s stalker? The one who was shot when you distracted the French Bride killer?”

Gorman straightened, preening as Kevin snapped yet another photo. “I’m the guy.”

“Did you see any ghosts?”

“Huh?”

I didn’t understand what ghosts had to do with the shooting either, but zippity hot damn do-dah, I saw my chance to dump Gorman on Kevin and make a clean getaway.

“It’s a great story,” I gushed. “Mr. Gorman challenged the killer right there in the street. You should let him tell you the whole thing firsthand. Oh, sorry, where are my manners? Mr. Gorman, this is Kevin Miller.”

While the men shook hands and awkwardly talked, I put my lantern away, relocked the cabinet, and edged toward the bay front to slink away.

“Hold it, vampire, I wanna talk to you.”

Rats. Foiled.

I pasted polite on my face and turned. “I can’t imagine what we have to discuss.”

“Just this.” Gorman stalked closer, Kevin on his heels, until the two of them flanked me. “I hear rumors there’s other vampires in town, and I wanna know two things. What’d you have to do with it, and what you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing, nothing, and where did you hear this rumor? I don’t think your source is reliable,” I shot back, hoping to confuse him. It worked. Gorman’s face screwed up in thought. He was not the sharpest stake in the Covenant woodpile.

“Oh, look at the time. Must run,” I said, stepping back to skirt around Kevin.

But Kevin grabbed my wrist, clonking me with a camera case.

“Wait, Ms. Marinelli. Are more vampires really coming here to St. Augustine?”

“You heard the rumor, too?” A mean grin spread over Gorman’s puffy lips, and he grabbed my other arm to trap me between him and Kevin. “Tell me who the scum are, vampire. Where do I find ’em?”

My heart raced, but I didn’t panic. “There’s nothing to tell,” I said calmly, “so, both of you, let me go.”

“Indeed, you blackguards,” a voice roared behind me. “Unhand Her Highness this instant, or face my wrath!”

In a rush of air, a hand brushed my side, and there stood Jo-Jo, brandishing my rubber sword.
Ay-yi-yi.

009

Gorman and Kevin released their holds on me out of pure shock, and well they should have, because Jo-Jo was a sight to bemuse. In black leather pants, a white poet’s shirt, and his hair tied back to show the healing wound on his forehead, he looked like a Shakespearean biker dude.

His eyes, though, blazed with dead serious intent. In spite of that outfit, I realized that Jo-Jo could be as potentially dangerous as anyone else, human or vampire.

“Who the hell are
you
?” Gorman demanded.

“I am Jo-Jo the Jester, champion of the fair Francesca, Most Royal Highness of the House of King Normand.”

“You’re one of the freakin’ new vampires in town?”

Jo-Jo waved the sword. “Step away from the princess before I run you through.”

“Uh, Jo-Jo,” I said, having eased from Gorman and Kevin on my own. “That’s a rubber sword.”

He blinked, twirled the sword in a blur of speed, and tapped the tip on the bricked surface of the plaza.

“Zounds! Never mind, my princess. I shall fight with my bare hands if necessary.”

Gorman’s perpetual scowl contorted. The corners of his mouth twisted upward, and he wheezed a sound I realized was laughter. Really creepy laughter.

“Damn, this’ll get those pansies in the Covenant seein’ things my way again.”

“Pansies?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

Gorman gave me shifty eyes. “I kept warnin’ ’em about you. Told ’em it was a matter a time before they’d regret decidin’ to leave you alone.”

I blinked. “Do you mean that all this time the rest of your Covenant buddies haven’t been out to get me?”

“No, but they hafta listen to me now, else be overrun by a bunch of evil pervert bloodsuckers.”

“But, Mr. Gorman, you can’t just kill vampires,” Kevin objected, squaring his strap-laden shoulders. “It’s against the law, and, besides, I’m not finished studying Ms. Marinelli.”

“Whaddya mean, studyin’ her?”

“I’m getting my doctorate in paranormal phenomena.” Kevin fished in a pants pocket, pulled out some slightly battered business cards, then shoved one at Gorman and one at me. “I have a theory that vampires are predisposed to attract ghosts.”

Gorman snorted. “So what?”

“I’m here for a few weeks to take Ms. Marinelli’s tours and compile data. And if this guy”—he hooked his thumb at Jo-Jo—“is a real vampire, maybe he’ll let me study him, too.”

“Kevin, why don’t you go to a city with a large vamp population to study?” I had to ask. The young man flushed. “I tried, but none of the groups would cooperate.”

“Hell, son, what’d you expect from a bunch of monsters?”

“We are not all monsters,” Jo-Jo informed Gorman haughtily, “any more than all humans are criminals.”

“Yeah, right,” Gorman sneered. “We’ll just see how long it takes you to attack when we’re watchin’ your every move and back you in a corner.”

Gorman walked off with such a spring in his step, I expected him to click his heels. And that awful horror movie laugh? He was scarier as a happy man than he was an angry one.

“Well, the witch hunt is on again,” I said to no one in particular.

“That is one twisted dude,” Kevin chimed in.

“What do you think of my outfit, Highness? Is it too over-the-top for my act?”

“What act? Do you do ghost tours, too?” Kevin asked, fumbling for the camera hanging beneath all those crosses. Crosses that were now faintly glowing. Yikes. I needed to shake Kevin before he noticed. He might not freak, but I wasn’t taking the chance.

“He doesn’t give ghost tours, and it’s time for us to go.”

“Okay. Just a few more shots.”

Jo-Jo posed, slashing my rubber sword in the gusting wind as the camera clicked. I counted to five, grabbed his arm, and led him off toward the city gates.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Marinelli,” Kevin called after us.

“Not if I call in sick,” I muttered.

“Uh, Highness, vampires don’t get sick.”

I shot Jo-Jo a sour look. “I get sick whenever I darn well feel like it, and stop swishing my sword.”

Jo-Jo wisely handed me my prop and kept his mouth shut.

Saber waited at the tiki bar on my patio and gave me only a welcoming peck on the cheek since Jo-Jo was there. The men settled in the living room while I changed out of my pirate costume, but I put my vampire hearing to good use and eavesdropped on them. Saber probed for more information about the vampire who was immune to silver, the one who had wounded Jo-Jo. Jo-Jo, though, seemed to have already told us what little he knew. Marco hadn’t been in Atlanta more than a year, and Jo-Jo avoided him. The confrontation over his longtime sweet-heart Jemina had come only after Jo-Jo had caught her with Marco.

“You can’t tell us anything else about this guy?” I asked as I joined them, comfy in my baggy blue shorts and a T-shirt. “He doesn’t have one single scar anywhere on his body?”

“Princess, we may all live together under Vlad’s rule and roof, but I had no reason to see Marco without clothing,” Jo-Jo said, then pursed his lips in thought. “The skin on his arms is whiter in some places than others.”

“Like sun damage or a skin condition?” Saber asked.

“I suppose, but the scarring or whatever it is would’ve occurred before he was turned.”

“Yeah, but it gives me another detail to check with the VPA. Now, how long have you known about Marco’s immunity to silver?”

“Personal knowledge? Only since he cut me.” Jo-Jo looked disgusted. “He ran his finger along the blade to gather my blood, then offered a taste to Jemina.”

“Did she, uh—”

“No, Highness. She spared me that humiliation, but Marco sucked his finger clean.”

“Gag,” I said, fighting my own reflex.

“That’s when I decided to flee. I didn’t pack so as not to alert Vlad’s spies. I left two days later, because everyone’s busy on Friday nights.”

Of course they were. The long workweek over, they kicked back on Friday nights. Happy hour with blood on tap, then hook up later for a little bite. Yuck.

“So the only things missing from Vlad’s nest are you and your laptop?” Saber asked. Jo-Jo looked sheepish. “Well, there are a few other things, but nothing that didn’t belong to me.”

Saber narrowed his eyes. “Like what, and if this will bring trouble down on Cesca, you’re a goner.”

“As in dead or just gone away?”

Saber gave Jo-Jo his cop face.

“Okay, okay. I brought the cash I had on hand, and my bank account books. I still have the Christmas Club account I opened in 1952,” he said proudly, but he hadn’t spilled everything yet.

Saber made a growling sound as I opened my psychic eye to take at peek at what Jo-Jo was dancing around.

“A key?” I said, a picture of it suddenly clear. A small version of a brass skeleton key but flat rather than rounded. “You brought an old key with you?”

Jo-Jo’s eyes rounded in amazement. “Yes, Highness, but how did you know?”

“Never mind that,” Saber said. “What does the key unlock?”

“J-just my safe-deposit box in New York City, honest,” Jo-Jo stammered, clearly shaken that I’d read him. Since I hadn’t been able to read him until now, I was surprised, too, but that was beside the point.

“Why are you being so cagey about a safe-deposit box?” I demanded.

“Well, I’ve had the box since 1927, and some of the things in it could belong to Jemina. Like a piece of jewelry.”

“Is she or anyone else likely to come hunting you for the key?” Saber asked.

Jo-Jo frowned. “I don’t think so. She mentioned the box to me about a week before I caught her with Marco, but not like it was important. It’s been so long, I’m not even sure what’s still in there.”

Saber and I exchanged a glance.

“You getting anything else from him, Cesca?”

“There’s an opal ring and a jet necklace in the box, and he knows it. Jemina swiped them both a long time ago, and Jo-Jo’s kept them for her. Other than guilt that he’s holding out on her now, that’s it. The coins, a few rings and some papers are his. Oh, and he knows what’s there, because he made an under-the-radar trip to New York last winter to check on the contents.”

Jo-Jo paled a little more than even a vamp should. Saber gave a single nod.

“I’ll contact the agent in Atlanta and put out a general call for information on immunity to silver. If there’s any scoop on this, one of my contacts should know.”

Jo-Jo sank back into the club chair with a shaky sigh and a wary eye. “Princess, how did you—”

“See the key and the other things in your thoughts?”

“Yes, and without me knowing you were in my head the first time? I didn’t even feel you when I knew you were reading me.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t mind-probe that often.”

“Did you probe those guys who threatened you tonight?”

Saber’s brows slammed into a scowl. “Who threatened you?”

It was my turn to sigh—and figure out how to get Jo-Jo to keep his big mouth shut—but I filled Saber in on Gorman and Kevin.

“I’ll check out Kevin Miller,” Saber said when I’d covered the highlights, “but Gorman shouldn’t be coming near you. Not with a restraining order on him. Damn, you have to be more careful, Cesca. You have to know when to vamp speed away from trouble.”

I drew myself up straight. “I will not run from Gorman, Saber. I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

“Then learn to fly at least enough to evade him if he grabs for you. Seeing you hover over him like an avenging angel would probably have him wetting himself.” He paused and speared Jo-Jo with a glare. “We need to start tonight’s lesson.”

“Yes, sir,” Jo-Jo said, shooting to his feet.

“No way,” I snapped and stood to face them both.

“But, Princess, we have perfect weather for the lesson.”

I stared. “Since when is a hurricane good for flying?”

“It’s not a hurricane,” Saber admonished. “It’s barely a tropical storm.”

“And the wind will add lift, my lady.”

I planted a hand on my hip. “Mary Poppins and the Flying Nun needed lift, Jo-Jo. I’m supposed to levitate, right?”

“Well, yes, but pure levitating takes more energy. Jumping is one way to, er, jump-start the process, but a good, stiff wind will give you an extra boost while you’re learning.”

“What about all the bugs and debris swirling in the wind? Shouldn’t I wear goggles?” And an apron to protect my clothes.

“We’ll stop at the all-night drugstore,” Saber said.

I swallowed a growl at Saber and turned back to Jo-Jo.

“What about your act?” I asked, that desperate for a diversion. “You wanted help with the routine and your costume.”

“I need to work on my own for a while. Besides, your consort has charged me with teaching you,” he said, steadily meeting my gaze, “and teach you I will.”

There are times when I want to roll my eyes so far back in my head, I’m sure I’ll see my brain. That’s one way to have it examined. And this was one of those times.