Mrs. Morris and the Vampire

by Traci Wilton

  She’d take that as a win.

  Kevin hugged her lightly and whistled a tune as he escorted her into the back of the cab. She grinned up at him, feeling like a champion who’d survived the great wars.

  “You’re a little worse for wear,” he whispered, “but in Sam’s eyes you still look mighty fine.”

  She punched him lightly. “Have you told Amy about our adventure today?”

  “Yeah, briefly. She’s going to meet me at the bar.”

  The cabdriver turned his head. “Excuse me, sir, but do you have an address?” Charlene chuckled and Kevin gave him the address for the bar, Brews and Broomsticks. “The lady will be dropped at Charlene’s Bed-and-Breakfast after that.”

  The driver met her gaze through the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “It’s just right up the road.”

  Charlene felt a sudden chill. Under the cabbie hat, the driver’s eyes reminded her of Callum’s from the Pirate’s Cove. Nah! It was just a spooky night, that’s all.

  She folded her arms on her lap and kept her focus on Kevin. It was a good thing she wasn’t driving. “Guess Amy thinks you’re quite the hero, right?”

  “Well, we are. Helped Sam wrap up the case.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  She glanced out the window as Kevin began to text and let her mind wander. Fall was her favorite season. The end of summer, but the beginning of cozy winter. A few minutes later the cab turned into the parking lot of the bar. The sky had darkened; the overhead clouds grew ominous. Thunder cracked and she shuddered.

  “Stormy weather,” Kevin said. “It’s our lucky day, Charlene. We didn’t die, and we beat the rain.”

  “We are lucky.” Her cell dinged and signaled a message. Sam wanted to video chat.

  Kevin gave her a light kiss on the cheek and a cheery wave as he ran to the bar and pushed through the heavy front door.

  The cabdriver turned around. “Where to?” She didn’t make eye contact with him as she gave him the address.

  Sam called and she answered, wincing as she saw the bandage on her temple reflected back at her.

  “They let you go?” he asked, concern on his face. “What’s that for?”

  “I’m all right, Sam. They put a few stitches on my brow. Guess now I’m damaged goods.”

  He rumbled a low laugh. “Just the way I like my women.” She couldn’t even smile without something tightening. “If you’re not feeling too badly, I’d love to take you to dinner.”

  “I’m pretty much wiped.” She wanted her house, her bed, tea. Silva. Jack. “How about tomorrow?”

  “It’s a date since the case is over. Get some rest tonight. You’ve been through the wringer.”

  “I will.” She didn’t want to say goodbye until she was safely at her doorstep. “Did you wind everything up after I left?”

  “Sure did. He’s quite the storyteller. Giving us more than we need.”

  She felt a little sorry for Patrick, a gifted writer, a man whose mind had slipped away in his fight to save the city’s buried treasures.

  Patrick would have killed them both as he had Alaric and Orpheus, and who knew how many others were down there? Justice would be served and he’d have to spend the rest of his life in prison, but it was a sad ending to the professor’s life.

  “I’m glad it’s over, Sam.”

  “Yup. Wanted to tell you that Alaric had that sun allergy, as well as an allergic reaction to garlic. In his medical records.”

  Poor Alaric.

  “This is one of the top-ten strangest cases I’ve ever cracked. Elisabeta will be sent to Louisiana to face trial for her part of Night Shadows. Asher too. Couldn’t have done it without you, Charlene.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” Warmth flooded through her. Since moving to Salem, the cold, empty shell of her heart continued to open a little at a time. “What about Celeste?”

  “She called her friend Tommy, in Jersey, and she’s going home.”

  “That is the best news. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night.”

  The screen went dark.

  “We’re here, ma’am.”

  They were parked in front of her brightly-lit mansion—a sight for sore eyes. She touched her bandage above her brow.

  “Nice place you’ve got here. Might invite my family to stay when they come for a visit from New York.”

  When she studied the cabbie’s face under the glow of her porch light, she realized that he didn’t resemble Callum at all. A good ten years older, a trimmed beard, and kind brown eyes.

  “That will be twenty even,” he said.

  She added another five for a tip, then stepped out of the car, tucking her phone into her jacket pocket.

  Minnie and Avery gasped as she strode through the door. “What happened to you?”

  “Long story, my friends.”

  Minnie wiped her hands on her apron but didn’t press—she knew Charlene would tell her everything in time.

  Avery stepped forward and put a finger on the white gauze. “Are you hurt?” Her eyes misted with tears.

  “No, barely at all.” She gave them a brief explanation of her day, knowing there would be many more questions she’d have to answer. But not now.

  “I’m exhausted. Please tell the guests I won’t be able to come to our happy hour, and I’m sorry to miss it.”

  She headed for her rooms and Jack. Another story to tell. If only Jack could read her mind, she could rest while he watched over her.

  “Charlene! Where have you been?” He put a gust of air beneath her chin to peer into her eyes. “You’ve been hurt. Sit down. What happened?”

  She tucked her feet under her on the love seat, snuggled in a comfy blanket, and slowly walked him through the events of the day just so she could put the ugliness behind her.

  Jack was kind and sweet, listening, asking questions when needed, praising her for a job well done. “You’re remarkable, Charlene. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

  “Well, Kevin deserves half the credit. We both got lucky, I guess.”

  “More than luck,” Jack insisted. “We never suspected Patrick Steel as the killer.”

  “He wanted to collapse the tunnel over us.”

  “Using your pepper spray against him took a great deal of guts.” Jack briefly closed his eyes. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if this had ended badly.”

  “You’d put on your Superman cape and rescue me.”

  “I wish it was that easy.” He chuckled. “You know what I’m going to research next?”

  “No—but I can see that you’re excited about it.”

  “There must be a way for me to escape the confines of the property. If I can fly around the widow’s walk, why can’t I just keep flying?”

  “I haven’t seen you do that lately.” She put her arms around her knees, searching his face. “Do you want to leave?”

  “Of course not. But if you were in trouble, I’d want the ability to save you.”

  She reached for him, stopping short of touching his cheek. “Let’s start the research in the morning.”

  “You get a good night’s sleep. It will be a busy day again tomorrow.”

  She remembered Sam had said almost the same words. A thought flickered through her mind. If she could choose, who would it be? Jack? Sam? Her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted off to dreamland.

  * * *

  Sam was sitting at the bar when she entered. She stood for a moment in the doorway just taking him in. A gorgeous man. Not just tall, but the whole muscular package topped with a strong face and thick chestnut hair. The way he’d held her yesterday?

  He turned just in time to see her almost drooling over herself, and he gave her a welcoming smile.

  She strutted over and plopped down on the stool next to him. “Hey there, good-looking. You need a date tonight?”

  “No. Sorry. I’m booked with the sweetest girl in town.”

  “Ah. Why are you being so nice to me? It’s disarming.”


  “You prefer it when I get mad?” Sam studied her face, the bandage at her brow, then skimmed down the rest of her. Nothing much to see since she was wearing a coat, but still she blushed and her insides warmed. “Come on, let’s grab a booth.” He put a ten-dollar bill on the counter and carried his imported beer.

  She walked beside him, her hip brushing his to send tingles up and down her spine. Sam had reserved a table toward the back. He helped her remove her coat and handed it to a waiter standing nearby.

  They both slid into the booth, heading for the middle, almost shoulder to shoulder. “What are you drinking?” He was so close that his mustache feathered her cheek as he asked the question.

  “A glass of cabernet, please.”

  A waitress took their order and handed them menus, but they continued to stare at one another. Charlene was silent for a moment, taking in the beauty of this flesh-and-blood man. If only, she thought, not for the first time.

  As long as she had a resident ghost living at the mansion, she couldn’t date any man and risk hurting Jack. Especially not a detective who refused to believe in the paranormal.

  She released a long breath.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” Sam’s hand found hers under the table.

  “Oh, they are worth far more than that,” she assured him.

  “Tell me about them?” His deep brown eyes caressed her even as his thumb caressed her wrist.

  “Not now. Let’s order dinner, and then we can talk about serious things. It’s nice just to be out with you.”

  His mouth softened with a smile. “We don’t have to wait so long between dates. If you have the will, I have the way.”

  “Sam . . .”

  They were interrupted by the girl who dropped off their drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I am if you are.” Sam brought her knuckles to his mouth.

  His mustache tickled her sensitive skin.

  “I could give you a few minutes,” the waitress said, backing away.

  “Won’t be necessary.” He glanced at Charlene. “The usual?”

  She nodded. Sam was a meat-and-potatoes man and had a French dip loaded with thinly sliced beef. She preferred something lighter and had shrimp over angel-hair.

  After the waitress left, they raised their glasses and toasted as they gazed into each other’s eyes. It was the most romantic moment she’d had in the past few years.

  “What are we doing?” she asked softly, finding herself staring at his lower lip.

  “Something we should have done a long time ago.”

  “I can’t.” She pulled away, but not too far.

  “You can.” He cupped her face and kissed her slowly. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Not fair. We’re almost like business partners,” she said, hoping to set the tone for the next hour or two.

  He clinked glasses once again. “Here’s to partners, no matter what kind.”

  “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  “You.”

  “Why?”

  “Because as maddening as you are, the biggest thing about you is your heart.”

  She took a drink and he did too.

  “I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m getting carried away.” His voice deepened as he moved closer to her. “I want to be carried away.” He abruptly turned his head.

  She swallowed hard, wishing things could be different.

  “No, you don’t. You know I’m a real PIA.”

  “No arguing that.”

  Charlene put her drink down and cupped his face, gently placing a kiss on his mouth. When she was done, she said, “Sam. Now isn’t the time for us. But some day, it might be. I can’t promise more than that.”