renovated the old, Victorian manor, finishing the attic and putting in three bedrooms
with en suite bathrooms there, and then named it Casey Cottage after Elvi's daughter.
The only trouble was that most of the guests were locals who stayed at the bed‐and‐
breakfast simply to be able to say they'd slept in the home of a vampire. They had
certain expectations as to what a vampire should look like and how they should
behave, thanks to shows such as Elvira, Mistress of the Dark and so on, so she was
forced to wear these ridiculous outfits at the restaurant as well as when they had
guests at the bed‐and‐breakfast. Which was most of the time. The Mistress of the Dark
had a lot to answer for, in Elvi's mind. Including the fact that everyone now called her
Elvi rather than Ellen, the name she'd been born with, or even Ellie, which was what
most of her friends had called her before she died.
"Here, don't forget your bells."
Elvi grimaced as she took the anklet laced with bells. They'd been a gift from Mabel
right after her turning. She'd claimed she thought they were charming, but Elvi knew
the truth was they kept her from sneaking up on the other woman and startling her.
Mabel had never admitted it, but Elvi knew she had been somewhat frightened of her
after her death. If not for their long friendship and her loyalty, Elvi might have been
lost. So she'd worn the silly bells home and continued to wear them as they both
adjusted to the changes in her life.
Besides, it was all supposed to fit her image as a sultry vampire. Elvi didn't feel sultry in
the getup, she just felt ridiculous. But she donned the item without protest. The
townspeople were the only reason she'd survived this cataclysmic change, and their
patronage at her restaurant gave her the ability to make a living. If they wished to see
her in black gowns and bells, then that's what they'd get.
"Ready?" Mabel asked once Elvi straightened.
"I have to put up my hair," she said.
"Leave it down tonight," Mabel suggested.
"But—"
"It looks better down."
Sighing, Elvi ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she could look in a mirror and be
sure it wasn't all wild. But everyone knew vampires didn't have a reflection, although
she still had directly after her death. Thinking it must be something that happened
gradually and not wishing to see this last proof of the loss of her humanity, Elvi had
removed the mirrors from her bedroom and bathroom. Understanding, as always,
Mabel had then removed the mirrors in the rest of the house, leaving only the one in
her own, and in the guest bathrooms and bedrooms. Elvi had to depend entirely on
others to be assured she looked all right.
"Do I need makeup?" she asked.
"You never need makeup," Mabel said dryly. "But put on some of that wine‐colored
lipstick. It looks good on you."
Elvi moved into the bathroom to do so, sliding the tube along her lips from practice in
the absence of a mirror.
"Perfect," Mabel pronounced when she returned to the bedroom. "Come on."
Elvi was silent on the way to the restaurant, her gaze taking in Mabel's pale face and
shadowed eyes with concern. The woman had claimed she'd let Elvi sleep in because
she'd seemed weary, but Mabel had been looking pale and weary as well lately. The
woman was sixty‐two years old and should have been easing her workload. Instead,
between the restaurant, the bed‐and‐breakfast, and the daytime chores she did that
Elvi couldn't do, she had more to do now than ever before. It worried her.
Mabel wasn't just her friend she was a lifeline. Without her, Elvi was sure she wouldn't
have survived what happened to her and constantly fretted over what she'd do when
age finally claimed the other woman, an issue that was constantly on her mind lately.
They'd already lost both their husbands and several friends to death's grasp. How
many more years could Mabel evade the reaper? Elvi was hoping for at least twenty,
but that was if they were lucky. If they weren't, she may have much less. The thought
depressed her.
"Here we are," Mabel said cheerfully as she parked.
Elvi unbuckled her seat belt and slid out of the car to follow her to the back door of the
restaurant, her gaze moving briefly upward. The sky overhead was star studded and
clear, without a cloud in sight, and she thought that it must have been just as clear a
day, with the sun baking down and warming everything.
The sun was something else Elvi missed terribly. She'd always been a summer person,
enjoying the sun and the flowers, trees and grass it encouraged to grow. Now she
could only enjoy those flowers and trees by the solar lights that lined her garden. If
asked, she couldn't have honestly answered which she missed more, food or sunlight.