Real Vampires Have Curves (42 page)

“Yeah, right. Smile for the camera, you mean.” I picked up my sodden sheet and threw it over my head.

“How are the others?” I pushed to my feet again and wobbled over to Flo like Casper the not-so-friendly ghost, Valdez at my heels. Of course my roommate
would
sleep in the raw. Valdez had draped a wet sheet over her but the rotors were blowing everything on the roof all to hell. Flo sat up, giving the camera a nice shot of her boobs.

“We're on camera, Flo. You might want to wrap your sheet a little tighter.”

“What's happened?” She pushed back her dark hair and looked around, then up. “They'd better not be taking my picture. I need my hair dryer, my makeup.”

Hopefully, they didn't have audio. I could hear the lead-in now. “Fire victim runs for blow dryer as rescuers battle blaze.”

I looked at Valdez. “My shop?” My voice cracked. I'd built Vintage Vamp's Emporium from nothing into a thriving business that actually supported me.

“I figure it's probably gutted.”
Valdez sat down and scratched his ear.
“Of course I was pretty busy. When the smoke alarms went off, I had to clear you guys out. And the stairwell was solid smoke.”
He coughed, sneezed, then looked at me for sympathy.

“My hero!” I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around his neck. I sniffed wet fur, a mix of dog and smoke. Valdez coughed again and I looked at him, really looked at him. “Seriously. Are you all right?”

Okay, now he was faking it. I sat back. Maybe he deserved a little slack. “How did you manage to get all of us out?”

“Frying. Oh my God.”

“We are alive, no?” Flo sat down and put her arm around me. Her Italian accent comes out when she's stressed. “And once again our puppy has saved the day.” She patted the dog's head. “We are dead without you,
signor.
”

Valdez puffed out his chest and looked up.
“You think I'll be on the evening news? You know they're going to want an interview.”

“Sure. Right. Talking dog saves sleeping vampires. Sorry, but you'll have to settle for a bag of Cheetos.”

I gave him a final ear rub, then walked over to check on Diana. She ran the coffee shop downstairs. If my shop was toast, so was hers.

“Di, are you okay?”

She coughed and sat up. “What happened?” She wore cute red plaid flannel jammies and her sheet, wet of course, coordinated in navy blue.

“Fire. Someone firebombed my shop, probably yours too if Westwood did it.” I reached out and pulled her to her feet.

“What?” She glanced up, then shot the finger at the helicopter. “Buzz off, vultures.” She headed for the door to the stairs. “I've got to check on the shop.” Mugs and Muffins. Like me, Diana has to support herself. If her shop had been hit too . . . Well, this was really, really bad. For both of us.

I grabbed her before she could open the door. “Wait. The firemen are working their way up here. The building's full of smoke.”

“My shoes!” Flo was on her feet, her sheet wrapped into a strapless sheath.

“I don't think the fire got that far. The building's security system went off as soon as I heard something crash through Blondie's shop window. The fire trucks got here pretty quick after that.”
Valdez spent my sleeping hours on hyper alert. Thank God.

“I say, how did we get wet?” The third floor vampire had joined us. He was a sight in an old fashioned nightshirt, but good looking in a college professor kind of way. His British accent was cute. We'd met him at some vamp meetings. Dennis, David, something like that.

“But my door was locked. Double deadbolts.” The prof stared at Valdez.

Fry. I swallowed a lump the size of Valdez's food bowl.

“Brilliant! You don't even know me.” The male vamp had obviously just found his new best friend.

“I saved all the vamps in the building.”
Valdez was visibly preening, and why not?
“It's my thing. You'd think some of those shifters would have been around, but no such luck. So I handled it.”

Shifters. Shape-shifters, that is, live in a couple of the apartments. A were-cat, my friend and employee, lives right across the hall. I took a shaky breath and felt sick again. This time I couldn't blame it on Cheetos or an evil mind meld. If Valdez hadn't been who or what he was . . .

The stair door slammed open and three firemen dressed in full bright-yellow gear ran onto the roof. The first one threw off his helmet and ran his hand through his short brown hair.

“Anybody hurt? You folks okay?”

We stayed huddled together, looking appropriately shocked and disoriented.

“The fire. It didn't spread to the apartments, did it?” If I had lost everything I owned . . . I've had to start over before, but it's hard, really hard.

“No, ma'am. Sprinkler and alarm systems saved the day.” The fireman sounded pure Texan. “You got good response time too. The fire itself didn't have a chance to spread upstairs. Just the smoke.”

“The sprinklers didn't go off in the apartments, did they?” Flo was suddenly right beside the fireman and grabbed his arm. “I have a most valuable collection that will be ruined if it gets wet.”

Flo's collection of Ferragamos, Prada, Manolos, et al. The fireman looked down at her, obviously liked the way Flo's sheet was slipping and patted her hand.

“No, ma'am. Only the hallways have sprinklers. Fire's out now. Smoke's just about cleared. Do any of you folks need the paramedics?” The fireman whipped out his walkie talkie when Diana coughed.

“No! Really! I'm fine. Just the night air and wet clothes.” Diana managed a smile. “Can we go in now? I'm freezing.”

Actually we were lucky. For mid-November in Austin, it was fairly cool, but not even close to freezing. Maybe I was being too literal. A vamp doesn't feel heat and cold like a mortal does. So I faked a shiver.

“Yeah, let's move inside if that's all right.”

“One minute.” The fireman spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Let me get the all clear.” Another fireman showed up in the doorway with a stack of blankets. We each took one gratefully.

Whump. Whump. Whump. Whump.
Channel whatever was getting this all on tape. Flo decided to take advantage and planted a big wet one of thanks on the cute fireman's lips after he announced we were good to go. Then we all hustled into the stairwell and out of camera view.

“What started the fire?” I looked at Valdez.

“Arson.” The fireman had a grim look as he stopped at the top of the stairs. “Someone broke the windows in the stores downstairs and tossed in incendiary devices.” The fireman couldn't take his eyes off Flo. She was busy rearranging her sheet again, flashing the entire crew. Probably unintentional. She was really anxious to check out that shoe collection.

The fireman's walkie-talkie squawked again. “How'd you folks get up here? The smoke alarm wake you?”

“Sure. Who could sleep through that?” Professor Vamp patted Valdez. “This fellow barked too, though. Just to be sure we knew to take it seriously.”

“No kidding.” The fireman, Flo attached to his side, gave Valdez an admiring glance. “But why are the doors knocked down? And who the hell could do that? I mean, three apartments look like they were hit with a battering ram . . .” Flo looked up into the fireman's eyes and he was under the whammy.

As damage control, it was a Band-Aid. We'd have to whammy every fireman who'd seen the doors Valdez had obviously knocked down. I looked at Di and the professor and they went to work on the other firemen coming down the stairs behind us. Before we got to the bottom, the guys had no memory of anything other than knocking the doors down themselves because they were looking for victims.

We stepped outside and I got my first look at what used to be a pretty cute vintage clothing shop. Thank God for sprinkler systems. The windows were shattered, the area right in front of them totaled. It didn't look like the fire had penetrated the closed door into the back room, though. I felt wobbly as I picked my way around broken glass. Diana cried out and I saw that Mugs and Muffins had received the same treatment. If Westwood had done this . . .

“Folks, you've got to let the paramedics look you over. It's our policy.” Cute Fireman led Flo over to an ambulance. You can bet she wasn't letting anyone put a stethoscope to her barely beating heart. And, sure enough, the men around her smiled and nodded and let her walk back to us without a checkup. The whammy at work again.

“They won't bother us now. Let's go upstairs.” She sniffed. “The whole building smells like smoke. My shoes had better not be ruined.”

Diana looked at her with red eyes. “Your shoes? Your
shoes
? Excuse me? Do you see my shop? Glory's shop? We're out of business!”

I grabbed Diana's arm. “We'll be fine. Damian's bound to have insurance.” Hope. Pray. Damian Sabatini was Flo's brother, and he owned the building. “Upstairs. Get a shower and some dry clothes.”

“Electricity will be off for a while, people.” Another fireman, a captain according to his helmet. “Here are some flashlights. But please just gather what you need for the night and make plans to sleep elsewhere. Until the building inspector gives the go ahead to occupy the residences.”

I realized we were lucky no one had asked why we all were ready for bed at what must be seven in the evening. We were a pretty strange looking group.

We heard a shout and I saw Diana grabbed by two of her employees. I caught some snatches. Slow time of day. No customers so both workers had been in the back area making up a batch of the muffins the place was famous for. At least neither of them had been hurt.

A car pulled up behind the fire engine and a man jumped out. Damian aka Casanova. He's a sexy vampire, but I'm now immune. He'd played some dirty tricks on me while trying to add another notch to his bedpost.

Did I mention he's our landlord? I was actually glad to see him and his look of concern.
Please let him have insurance.
I sure didn't. I know. I know. But the premiums! I looked back at the shop. Maybe I'd rethink my priorities if my business survived this.

“Florence, Gloriana, are you all right?” He grabbed Flo and looked her over. “Diana?”

“We're all fine, Damian.” Flo hugged him before we all turned to head upstairs.

“Wait!” Someone grabbed my arm.

“Donna Mitchell, Channel Six News. The fireman said this is your shop?” A female reporter dressed in a blazer and running shoes thrust a microphone near my mouth. I started to brush her off, then glanced at the front of my shop again.

“Yes. This is . . .
was
my place. Vintage Vamp's Emporium, offering fine clothing and accessories from the past at bargain prices.” Okay, so I had to plug it, even if I had no idea if I even had a shop any more. Tears filled my eyes and the camera zoomed in. Nothing like a tragedy to boost ratings.

“Any idea what happened, Ms. . . . ?”

“Gloriana St. Clair.” I hitched my slipping blanket up on my shoulders. My wet hair dripped into my eyes. I was damn mad and looking pitiful worked for me right now. Valdez pressed himself against my legs and looked up at me soulfully. “We all work night shifts, so my dog here helped wake us up.” I patted him on the head and he showed his teeth in a doggy grin. “Someone did this on purpose.”

“Are you saying this was arson?” The reporter was all business now, gesturing at the cameraman so he could pan to the broken and blackened windows.

“Absolutely.” I looked directly at the camera when it was aimed at me again. “And I want to put whoever did this on notice. I
will
re-open. I will
not
just disappear.”

“Gee, you make this sound like a hate crime. Are you, um, a minority?”

Blonde, blue-eyed white girl a minority? I smiled and read the reporter's mind.
Hmm.
I could set her straight—ha, ha—but why bother?

“I'm a woman, trying to support myself. Some people”— maybe I was digging a hole here—“don't like independence or people who are different.”

The reporter thrust the microphone at Flo, who had somehow managed to pull her hair back into a chic ponytail, her sheet now a toga that Julius Caesar himself had probably taught her how to wrap.

“Are you Ms. St. Clair's partner?”

Flo grinned, obviously reading the reporter's mind too.

“Glory and I haven't been together long,” she linked her arm through mine, “and the business is all hers. Me, I'm into new. I have a wonderful shoe collection, spared from the fire, thank God. I just hope Glory's business survives this.” Flo actually kissed my cheek and I swear I jumped a foot.

“We're not—”

“Hush, Glory. Let me tell Donna about my shoes.” Flo began rattling off designer names until the reporter's eyes glazed over and she signaled the cameraman to cut.

“I think we have enough. Excuse me, I see an arson investigator has arrived. Good luck with your business, Ms. St. Clair. Here's my card, if you need to contact me for a follow up.”