“I’m so sorry,” Sierra said. “Come in, both of you.”
Wait, why had she let all these vampires into her house? She might be able to tell when Ronan was lying to her, but that didn’t mean she could trust these others.
If there was trouble, Ronan would protect her because he needed her. Yeah, but that made it Ronan versus four … no, make that five vampires counting Tanya. Not good odds.
Okay, so Tanya probably wouldn’t hurt her because she needed Sierra to keep writing the next book.
Maybe Sierra could put vampires in the next book. Everything was grist for the mill in a writer’s life. Write what you know. She already knew ghosts. Now she knew vampires too. Let’s not forget Zoe the witch who could clear messes with a single wave of her hand.
“No wand?” Sierra didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until she saw Zoe roll her eyes and heard Tanya say, “That’s what I asked her.”
“And as I told you at the time, I’m a witch not freaking Tinkerbell,” Zoe said impatiently.
“No need to get crabby about it,” Tanya said. “No one likes a crabby witch.”
Yeah, inviting them all in had definitely been a mistake, Sierra silently decided. Now the issue was how to get rid of them.
“Can you see a ghost now?” Bruce asked Sierra.
She looked around and saw Ruby in the far corner of the living room, shaking her head and putting her finger to her lips in the universal shhh sign.
“Uh, no, I don’t see any ghosts right now,” Sierra lied.
Bruce looked around. “So this place used to be a brothel, huh?”
“No, it was a bordello,” Ruby said, and Sierra repeated without thinking.
“What’s the difference?” Bruce said.
“Damned if I know,” Sierra muttered.
“Then why did you say that? Did the spirit speak through you?” Bruce asked eagerly.
“I’m not a medium,” Sierra said.
“No, you’re a large,” Tanya said. “A size fourteen if I’m not mistaken.”
“A medium is someone who can communicate with spirits via telepathy. I’m clairvoyant and clairaudient in that I can both see and hear ghosts. Just not right now,” Sierra hurriedly added as Ruby put her fingers together and made a zip motion across her mouth.
“One of the hard things about being a vampire is having your friends and family pass on,” Bruce said. “I was hoping maybe you would be able to contact someone for me.”
“I don’t know…” Sierra said.
“I’d pay you,” Bruce assured her.
“Who do you want to contact?” Pat asked him.
It was only as Bruce put his arm around Pat and kissed his cheek that Sierra realized that the two were a couple.
“There’s no need for you to get jealous,” Bruce told Pat. “I don’t want to get in touch with any old lovers. But I would like to contact Mother.”
“I thought she was the reason you ran away and joined the circus,” Pat said.
“I was a professional clown,” Bruce told Sierra. “Before I was turned into a vampire, I mean. And yes, my Bible-thumping adopted momma was the reason I ran away when I was fifteen. She’d thump me upside the head but good with that Bible of hers.”
“Then why do you want to contact her?” Pat asked.
“Mother is a nickname for the bearded lady in the circus who took me under her wing. She choked on some kernels of popcorn and died in her trailer all alone. I just wanted her to know how much I appreciated her kindness.”
“I’m sorry but I’ve never done séances,” Sierra said.
“And the other ghosts might object to having a new spirit in the house,” Zoe said.
“Ya think?” Ruby said. “Damn right I’d object! Not that I have anything against bearded ladies. I saw one once in the circus when it came to town.”
Sierra was prevented from further discussion about séances or circuses by a phone call. “I have to take this,” she told all the supernaturals in her living room.
The call was from a reporter, Bob Nolan, from the Chicago Tribune. “I just wanted to confirm our interview for tomorrow,” Bob said.
When Katie Katz, Sierra’s publicist at her publishing company, heard Sierra was moving to a historic house in Chicago that might have ties to Al Capone’s gang, she’d set up an interview with Bob.
But that was before Sierra knew about Vamptown.
“Uhm, maybe we could meet somewhere else instead of my house.”
“Is something wrong?” the reporter asked.
How to answer that question? Yes, a million things were wrong. A handful of them were standing in her living room arguing about bearded ladies.