Blood Bath & Beyond

by Michelle Rowen

“Likely the threat of witches,” Thierry said, glancing at my surprised reaction. “Hunters are a superstitious lot. Witches are bad luck for them. Also, crossing paths with a witch-hunter would be dangerous for everyone involved.”

  I thought it through, still disturbed by the idea of witches and witch-hunters, let alone regular hunters. “Okay. So it would be like turf wars—West Side Story without the singing.”

  “Something like that. Or at least that’s what they try to avoid. Other towns that are rumored to be homes to covens are treated much the same way. The world of witches and the world of vampires rarely cross paths.”

  “So there are witches in Salem,” I said. For this I looked at Owen for the answer. After all, he lived here.

  “Some,” he agreed. “But no megas.”

  At my confused look, Thierry took over. “A mega is the unofficial term vampires use for a very powerful witch who can do magic without a grimoire, a book of spells. These witches are rare.”

  “And luckily, none are currently living in Salem,” Owen added. “Just the harmless ones who like to do simple spells and cook up magical recipes. There are many peaceful Wiccans here, too. And, of course, there are the ones who only think they’re witches. They usually wear the pointy hats.”

  When I thought of Salem, of course I thought of witches. I’d loved watching reruns of Bewitched when I was a kid—had the nose twitch down pat. This town was ready, willing, and able to appeal to that particular tourist expectation. There was even a statue of Elizabeth Montgomery herself I’d seen as we’d driven to the café.

  But mega-witch? Kind of like an alpha werewolf, I figured—the leader, the most powerful one. Only…minus the hairballs.

  “You said one of the missing vampires is the mistress of a Ring elder,” Thierry said, helping to get us back on topic.

  Owen nodded. “That’s right.”

  “If there aren’t any hunters in town, maybe nothing bad happened to her,” I reasoned. “Maybe she was tired of being his mistress and took off with someone else.”

  “Maybe,” Owen allowed, then cleared his throat. He wasn’t looking directly at us anymore; instead, he was staring over at the coffee bar with its glass displays of baked goods.

  Thierry watched him carefully, his arms crossed over his chest. “Let me guess. You were involved with her.”

  “I’m not really sure I’d say that one night constitutes involved.” He shrugged. “There’s a popular karaoke bar that I go to all the time, and let’s just say that Monique knew how to sing Beyoncé like nobody’s business. I had to have her.”

  “You slept with the mistress of a Ring elder.” I put it into words. Although it didn’t surprise me at all to learn that this guy favored one-night stands.

  He didn’t look the least bit guilty about it. “What can I say? For a three-hundred-year-old woman she was unbelievable beautiful. Like a Victoria’s Secret model. But she’s gone—just disappeared.”

  “And the other two?” Thierry asked.

  “A regular vamp couple passing through town with no Ring affiliation. I met them. Nice.” He cleared his throat again. “Really nice.”

  Something about the way he said it…“How well did you know them?”

  “Uh…let’s just say that some couples like to experiment when they’re on vacation. And if they happen to suggest that I join them, what am I supposed to say? No?”

  I could safely say I’d now known him long enough to make a non-first-impression impression. Owen Brumley—a vampire of amazing looks and indeterminable age—was the town slut.

  “So what you’re saying is that three vampires have gone missing while traveling through Salem,” Thierry said evenly, “and all three of them had spent a night with you.”

  Owen took the mug of coffee from the passing waitress’s tray and gave her a flirtatious grin before she moved away. “Basically. And just for the record, I had nothing to do with their disappearances.”

  I exchanged a look with Thierry. There was no accusation in his gaze toward Owen at these revelations. Nor was there any surprise. None at all.

  “Does the Ring know any of this?” I asked. “That you were, um, intimately involved with them?”

  “Are you kidding?” He gave me a stunned look, then turned to Thierry. “If Franklin found out about me and Monique…he’d probably have me staked. And it was nothing. A momentary dalliance.”

  Thierry let out a humorless snort. “You’re right. He wouldn’t be pleased. I believe you also had an affair with his second wife, if I’m not mistaken. During the Civil War?”

  Owen took another sip of his coffee. “Whatever. It’s not like it’s relevant. Three vamps are now missing without a trace. That’s all I know. Now it’s your job to find out what happened to them.”

  “And you?” I asked. “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever I like. As usual.” He gave me another leering look. “I can show you around town if Thierry’s too busy. It would be my pleasure to get to know you better.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “You’re not nearly dour enough for me to spend more than a few minutes with. No offense.”

  I heard another snort from Thierry’s direction. This one held way more humor than the last.

  If he’d even been the least bit concerned that I’d be taken in by this shiny but vapid vampire, then he needed to think again. I mean, please.

  “We need a suggestion for a hotel,” Thierry said. “Can you help?”

  Owen had brushed off my dismissal without even an ounce of ill will, which I had to respect. His smile hadn’t even wavered. “Of course. But you don’t want a hotel. I know a great bed-and-breakfast that would be perfect for you.”

  A bed-and-breakfast sounded wonderful, actually. I’d never stayed in one before. And Salem—witches or not—seemed like the perfect spot for a casual but fun honeymoon, even if we had to take care of some business as well.

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  Just before I followed Owen and Thierry through the swinging glass door, I had that strange shivery feeling again. I stopped and turned to look.

  The pale, dark-haired man was back, and he stood a dozen feet away, staring at me. I met his black eyes directly and felt frozen in place by the coldness in his gaze.

  “Soon,” he said, his voice deep and scary and as icy as his eyes. Then the corner of his mouth turned up into a sinister smile.

  The next moment he disappeared into thin air.

  I shuddered.

  Yeah. That was definitely a ghost. And one that nobody else seemed able to see.

  Lucky me.