Full-Figured Vampire 1 - Real Vampires Have Curves

by Gerry Bartlett

  As for ghosts, Castle Campbell had been crowded with dead ancestors. One roamed the halls carrying an ax and an enemy's head. A cowgirl was more than welcome here.

  "I'm not just a cowgirl." She looked down at her fringed leather skirt. "It's okay, but not my everyday look. Just what I happened to be wearing when I went toes up."

  Another mind reader? Of course.

  "Whoa. Makes you want to rethink how you dress each day. I mean, what if you'd been stuck in baggy sweats and running shoes?" I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt.

  "Exactly." The cowgirl looked me over. "My name's Emmie Lou Nutt."

  She sighed when I giggled. I hate gigglers, but sometimes that's all that works.

  "You're kidding."

  "I wish. You think I wanted to be a Nutt? But Harvey Nutt was the best darn kisser in Travis County. If I had it to do over…" She winced and looked up. "Too late for do overs. I get it."

  "I'm Gloriana St. Clair. Glory to my friends." I held out my hand but Emmie just looked at it.

  "Look but don't touch, honey." She settled down on another rickety chair. "Now tell me about this Vintage Vamp place. I get that you're a vampire."

  "True, but it's named more for my 'vamp' days. Back in the roaring twenties. I'll have vintage clothing, antiques, whatever I think will sell. I can see you've got a real sense of style."

  "Thanks, honey." She got up and walked around me. "Back in my day, the only place I wore jeans was to muck out the horse stalls."

  I smiled and gestured around the filthy room. "That's what I'm here to do, muck out this stall." I couldn't get a read on Emmie's age or era. The skirt hit her just at the knees.

  "Would it be rude to ask when you… passed on?"

  "Not at all. October 5, 1963. I was sixty-seven years young. I'd dressed up like this because I'd entered the peach pie contest at the Texas State Fair in Dallas. Called my entry Cowgirl Emmie's Passionate Peach Pie." She lowered her voice. "The secret's amaretto in the filling. Second place. That bitch Sheila Lee Harper stole first. I swear she was sleeping with the judge."

  She glared at the ceiling. "As if my day hadn't been bad enough, Harvey drove over me pulling out of the parking lot."

  "Oh, no!"

  "Yep." Emmie frowned and I felt that chill again. "Harvey Nutt, don't you dare interrupt us. She's going to hear my side first."

  She stood, stomped over to the window and wrote "Killer" with one finger.

  "He says it was an accident. What about the rearview mirror? Did he bother to check? And we'd had a hell of a fight just that morning. The man would spend anything on a new tractor and he could not balance a checkbook." She underlined "Killer" three times.

  "I had insurance, you know." Emmie Lou cocked her head, then looked up and made a face. "He'll be by later to tell his side. Don't listen to him."

  I knew better than to take sides. "Why are you here? If you… passed in Dallas."

  "I call it purgatory. This used to be a soda shop. Harvey and I met here. Someone," she looked up again, "wants us to make up. When hell freezes over, Harvey!"

  And she was gone.

  "Wait! Are you going to be okay with this shop? Will you be trying to scare away my customers?" I smelled flowers. Roses. A pretty smell. Friendly. I took that as a yes. Interesting. And no way was I spooked.

  I grabbed a broom and began to attack the dust. I felt a little sorry for Harvey, but I'd wait till I heard his side to pass judgment. For now, I had a feeling that Emmie Lou, at least, was going to like this shop.

  "Everything looks great, Lacy." The store opened tonight and Lacy had been terrific the past month, working like a demon, if you'll pardon the expression. She'd scrounged up some cheap mannequins, dressed them in vintage clothes and set them in the windows. A flapper stood next to a chic fifties model in a cocktail dress complete with petticoat.

  "CiCi must have arranged all the furniture and doodads again last night. They look good, don't they?" Lacy didn't look bad herself in a forties style navy and white shirtwaist and perky navy hat complete with feather.

  "Great. Everything looks great." Had Freddy's mother rearranged things or were Emmie and Harvey responsible? Harvey had shown up the day after Emmie did. He'd been in plaid Western shirt and starched and pressed jeans, claiming he'd never meant to run his darling Emmie Lou down. She'd bent over to pick up a penny. Not his fault that the woman was so tight she squeaked. Emmie had appeared then and they'd vanished together, still yelling at each other.

  Fortunately Lacy was as comfortable with ghosts as I was. A small vase toppled to the floor and shattered. Spirits. That was the preferred term.

  "I wish they wouldn't do that." Another vase shook. "Sorry! I know. You were here first." The vase settled down.

  "We bear you!" Lacy huffed and got the broom and dust pan.

  The shop had evolved into 60 percent clothing, 40 percent everything else. When the word had gone out that I paid a fair price for vintage pieces, I'd been inundated. I wasn't the only immortal with a hoarding mentality. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one who'd decided it was time to let go of some things now too. I was proud of my store. It looked eclectic, well-organized, but crowded enough to hint at buried treasures.

  I'd slipped into one of my favorite vintage outfits, a sixties lime green and orange bell-bottom jumpsuit with a zip front. I had a feeling Emmie Lou approved. Every time I looked down, my zipper was a little lower.

  "Too bad CiCi can't be here when we open. She's been a big help. I had no idea she had such a head for business. As far as I know she's never even held a job."

  "Could have fooled me." Lacy made a face. "She's been ordering me around like she's been a boss all her life."

  "I didn't say she wasn't bossy. But she's right too often to ignore. I'm sure she'll be by later to check up on us. She, Derek and Freddy are celebrating Freddy's birthday tonight." I rolled my eyes. "Don't ask me how. Let them eat cake doesn't exactly work for us."

  "Bummer." Lacy pulled a vase of beautiful blood red roses, several dozen of them, from behind the counter and set it next to the cash register. "Surprise!"

  "Very nice." I moved closer. They were perfect, barely open, and the fragrance… Delish. The rose smell had hit me as soon as I'd walked in this evening, but I'd figured it was Emmie Lou's way of reminding us she was around and supervising.

  "CiCi again? She loves fresh flowers."

  "Nope. I shouldn't have read the card," Lacy handed me a small white envelope, "but you know what they say about cats and curiosity."

  "I'll let you know in a minute if it's fatal this time." I pulled a card out of the envelope and recognized the bold handwriting immediately. "Success. Blade."

  Blade had sent flowers? I read the card again. Apparently. All he'd sent me before was the occasional case of Bloody Merry, because he didn't trust me to keep a sufficient supply. Now red roses? Had Mara put him up to this?

  "Red roses are so romantic." Lacy sighed and sniffed. "I'd like to meet this guy. Blade. Cool name."

  I smiled. At times like this, Lacy made me feel every one of my four hundred plus years. She was like a teenager, crushing on every good looking guy she saw, but, as far as I knew, never hooking up with one.

  "Blade likes knives, swords, daggers. And knows how to use them."

  "Even cooler. Where are you keeping him?"

  "Lake Charles. He has a casino there."

  "Oooh. Rich and romantic."

  "Usually not romantic." I read the card one more time. Not exactly a love note, but I'd take it. Success. Wow. This felt like a breakthrough.

  Lacy wiggled her nose. "Smells like love to me, Glory. Probably is a breakthrough."

  I'd told Lacy to stay out of my mind too many times to count in the last month. Even though she was a hard worker, I'd have to fire her if she didn't lay off. Her eyes widened and she flushed.

  "Sorry, Boss. It's a habit."

  I gave her a look.

  "Okay, okay, a bad habit. If they made a patch for it, I'd be
first in line."

  "I don't want to waste my energy blocking you, Lacy. So just tune out. I do it all the time."

  "Maybe you shouldn't—"

  "And maybe you should." Blocking also gave me a migraine because I'd never gotten the hang of it. And if Lacy was reading this thought, she was fired. I gave her a searching look. She was smelling the roses again. Nada. Finally.

  Tapping on the glass door. "Are you open yet?" Two women stood outside.

  "Ready?"

  Lacy nodded, obviously relieved to be off the hot seat.

  "Okay, here goes." I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I'd think about Blade and the warm fuzzies I was feeling toward him later. Hmm. Red roses.

  And Lacy? I had to admit it felt good having her here and I had to have a day person. She just needed time to adjust to my demands. Which were not unreasonable. I pasted a smile on my face. I was scared spitless.

  This was big. I'd always worked for other people. Dancer, waitress, bartender—any night gig I could get. No profit, no sweat. For me anyway. Now I was totally responsible for rent, Lacy's salary and my own livelihood. This shop had to make it. I'd sunk all my savings into stock, fixtures and ads that I'd paid the shape-shifter in 3C to pass around in shopping center parking lots.

  I flipped open the two dead bolts and threw open the door. "Welcome to Vintage Vamp's Emporium."

  "The purple cocktail dress in the window. What size is it?" A blonde about my size grabbed the skirt and wouldn't let go. "Taffeta, Mel, don't you just love it?"

  "Mel" was loading her arms with vintage beaded sweaters. "I want one of these in every color. They're in perfect condition. Where did you get them?"

  "Here and there." I unzipped the cocktail dress. "I'm pretty sure this will fit you. The tag says size sixteen, but back in the fifties they sized things differently. Marilyn Monroe wore a twelve, but today that would be about a six. This one is about a ten to twelve in today's sizes." The truth, I swear it. And didn't I love that? I know it's just a number and retailing genius, but I feel smaller in a twelve.

  The woman hugged the dress and followed Lacy to the dressing rooms we'd created with curtains and screens. There were no mirrors anywhere except inside those cubicles. I avoid mirrors. Nobody home, if you know what I mean.

  More women pushed through the door, a man and then a couple.

  "Look, honey, here's a sideboard that would be perfect in our dining room."

  By the time Lacy dragged herself off to bed, we'd made enough sales to pay the rent and Lacy's salary for at least two months. I couldn't believe that at two in the morning I still had a customer hip deep in Victorian night rails, including those sexless sacks Flo had insisted I sell. The bells on the front door tinkled. Another customer?

  This one was a man, his hair in spikes. He wore a long black coat and, what a cliche, black lipstick. A Goth and potential groupie. I'd had groupies before and they can be a pain, begging you to bite them, turning every night into Halloween with their silly costumes. Sure, I'd had mortal friends in Vegas, but they'd thought I was one of them. I hadn't let a mortal in on my vamp self in years.

  "Where are the vamps?"

  "What kind of vamps are you looking for?" I gestured toward the mannequin in the window. The first flapper dress, my favorite black, had sold in an hour. This one was blue and had cool beaded fringe. I kind of hated to see it go. I'd had a lot of fun dancing in that dress.

  Chicago in the twenties. Al Capone and I had been on and Blade and I had been off. Then I found out what old Al did for a living. Time for the vamp vanishing act. I'd headed to New York, a great place to get lost, if you know what I mean.

  "Not that kind of vamp." The man looked pale and swayed, obviously about to faint. I hustled him into a chair.

  "Are you all right?"

  "I don't know. I had an… encounter a while ago." He looked toward the woman holding up a lace-trimmed corset, waiting until she headed into a dressing room. He leaned toward me. "A vampire." He drew out the word like the narrator in a bad horror movie.

  "You're kidding. What are you on, dude?"

  "Nothing. Well, maybe a little weed. But look!" He stroked his neck where I could see two bright red marks. "He bit me right here. And sucked my blood. It was amazing."

  "Looks like mosquito bites to me. Where'd you score that weed?" Yeah, play the diminished capacity card. Make him wonder if he'd dreamed the whole thing. I grabbed a bottle of water from a bucket full of ice Lacy had set on the counter for our grand opening and twisted off the top.

  "Drink." I looked deep into his eyes. It had been a while since I'd used the vamp whammy, but I still had him under in less time than you could say "Holy crap." What kind of irresponsible vamp was out there doing the bite and run? Left marks, didn't bother to erase memory.

  And this vamp groupie wannabe was just the type to brag about his "encounter." He was already looking for his next one here. All it took was a hint to the wrong person and we'd have what amounted to a vampire witch hunt.

  The man's eyes were glazed. "Keep drinking." He gulped the cold water. I pressed my fingers against his fang marks until his skin was unblemished again.

  "Stop. Rest. You'll feel better in a moment."

  Damn it. Some vamp was either suicidal or really, really stupid.

  Chapter Six

  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I couldn't call Freddy, his birthday and all, so I hit the speed dial for Damian. He'd put the number in himself when he'd stopped by last night to check out the store. And insisted I call him if I had any problems. I glanced at the man staring at his empty water bottle. Definitely a problem.

  "Cara, I knew you'd weaken. You need me." His voice was hot sex on a cold night. Not now, Glory.

  "Can you come over here? Now? I'm still at the shop."

  "What's wrong?" Now he was all business.

  "Just get over here. Fast." I hit end and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I rang up a corset and a night rail for my customer.

  "What's with him?" She stowed her credit card in her wallet and nodded toward my zombie.

  "Bad weed. I called someone to take him home."

  "What an idiot. Him, not you, honey." She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door. "These Goths." She laughed. "They actually believe in vampires and nonsense like that."

  "Go figure." I showed her out the door and turned the locks. Nonsense. I wasn't insulted. It was just proof positive that I was blending successfully. I flipped the sign from Open to Closed then hurried back to the idiot's side. He sat motionless just like I'd left him. If I didn't snap him out of it, he would sit like that for hours. Cool, huh?

  Kick the weirdo out. Harvey wrote on my spotless counter. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Trying to protect me. Fortunately he didn't leave smudges.

  "I'm taking care of it, Harvey." I lifted the man's chin. "Look at me." I used my low, irresistible voice and he raised his eyes to mine. "What's your name?"

  "Raymond Whitelaw."

  "Raymond, tell me what the vampire looked like."

  Ray touched his throat. "Vampire. Yes. Tall."

  "Man or woman?"

  "Man. Strong."

  A tall man. Swell, that only fit about twenty vamps in the Austin area that I knew of.

  "Hair color?"

  "Light. Pretty hair. Like snow."

  Now we were getting somewhere. A white haired vamp. I'd known a few and they were certainly easy to spot. But I hadn't met one here in Austin.

  "You remember anything else about him, Raymond?" I kept my voice steady and calm. Ray just kept holding his empty bottle. "Think hard."

  "He prayed." Ray shook his head. "Weird. Called God and Jesus. Vampires like Satan. I like Satan."

  I felt rage boil up in me and it was all I could do not to rip Ray's throat out and toss him into a dumpster somewhere. Vamps do have a primitive side, I admit it. And when we're riled… Don't make a vamp mad, that's what I'm saying.

  I paced the store until I'd cooled
down enough to speak. Satan worshiper. Excuse me, but just because I live forever and can drink blood doesn't mean I'm a raving demon from hell. I was raised in a very religious household. Scary religious. And you don't just get over that. When I fell for an actor, my folks considered me a lost cause. After years of soul searching, I'm pretty sure I answer to a higher power, not a lower one.

  I took Ray's water bottle and held his hand. He'd unbuttoned his coat and I could see a student ID clipped to his belt. What was he studying? Dumbass 101?

  "Raymond, you're going to go home now. You're not going to remember anything about this night. But you are going to remember that vampires are good and kind. Vampires are God-fearing creatures, not demons from hell. Do you hear me, Raymond?"

  Ray nodded.

  "And, Raymond," I couldn't resist, more my parents' child than I'd ever admitted to them. "You will love God, not Satan. Satan is bad. God loves you. And," okay, I had my own agenda, "He hates black lipstick."

  Ray nodded. "God loves me. Hates black lipstick." He rubbed his mouth on his black coat sleeve. He looked a fool with black smears on his face and I couldn't care less.

  "Yes. Good man." I pulled him to his feet and led him to the door. I looked through the glass and saw Damian standing there. I threw the dead bolts and opened the door.

  "Who's this?" My suave sophisticated seducer looked ready to tear the man's head off. So Damian had his own primitive streak. Good to know.

  "Tell you in a minute." I led Raymond to the curb. "Where's your car, Raymond?"

  "Don't have one. Rode the bus."

  I glanced at my watch. "Oh, hell, the buses aren't going to be running this time of night. Will you take him home, Damian?" The vamp-mobile was sitting at the curb, the motor still running.

  "I'll take him home if you'll come with us."

  I looked up and down the street. No potential customers on the sidewalk, though the coffee bar next door had a few customers taking advantage of the Wi-Fi connections.

  My first night and I had to close. Well, maybe I didn't have to. But I was tired, my feet ached and Damian had ridden to my rescue without question. If he wanted my company, I wasn't going to argue. Damian loaded Ray into the backseat. I locked up, stuck my keys in my pocket and settled in while Ray told Damian his address.