Page 34 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

“Too much information, John David. I don’t want to know about vampiry stuff like that. I need to play like you’re just a charming guy to keep from being on edge.” He laughed softly and I felt no sense of fear or dread. “There! That’s it! A totally agreeable, non-threatening laugh.”

“I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, Rita. I’ll try to remember how I did that just now.”

Thinking it was time for a subject change, I said, “May I sit?”

“Please.”

I picked the chair with my favorite view of the exotic plants and orchids and was enjoying the sight of a male peacock spreading his train.

As John David settled into the seat across from me, he said, “I have the best news.” I stared. It was the first time I’d seen him so excited. “The night of the ball is a super blue moon. It’s quite unusual. There won’t be another for ten years.”

There was no question. He sounded giddy.

“Are we expecting werewolves?” I quipped while thinking, if so, count me out.

“You’re far too funny to be a judge,” he said.

Truthfully, the discovery that werewolves exist would be no stranger than fae, elves, brounies, wind devils, banshee, nymphs, merpeople, dragons, Lorcans, phoenixes, living gargoyles, kelpies, various and sundry gods, sephalien and whatever Esme is. Nonetheless, if John David was confirming that werewolves were merely a product of human nightmares, then I could relax about one thing at least.

“Of course, we’re not expecting werewolves. They can’t behave themselves well enough to attend a civilized dinner on an uneventful evening, much less on the occasion of a super blue moon.” Stress restored. “And there’s a rumor that there’s only one left.”

“Werewolves exist but they’re practically extinct?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t they just make more werewolves by biting people.”

John David almost spat out his tea on the way to laughing out loud. “Rita. You say the oddest things.”I do?“Vampires make more vampires by biting people, under very strict ritual circumstances. Werewolves reproduce the usual way.”

I had no business whatsoever feeling a little sad about a last werewolf with no possibilities of more, but the idea of a last anything triggered my sympathy response. The only rational thing to do with that was to set it aside.

“So, we’re having dinner at the party?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “Of course.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

A beautiful, young, redhead in a pink maid’s outfit appeared to serve tea. While I was discerning that her exotic hair was a hundred percent natural, she didn’t speak, but curtsied and smiled in a way that was unusually direct for old-school domestics. Her smile was just the slightest bit disconcerting.

Before I could dwell on this strange newcomer, she went to work offering cream, lemon, and sugar cubes in white or brown, before she poured tea into the priceless cups. The aroma was so divine, it was heady. Heavy on the bergamot just like I like it.

“Thank you, Aofinne. I’ll take it from here.”

Again, she smiled. When John David looked away, her eyes came straight to me with the smile firmly in place. She held my gaze and hesitated a moment too long to avoid feelings of awkwardness.

When she disappeared, I leaned over and said, “When did you…”

“Don’t fret about it. She’s a very old acquaintance in need of temporary assistance.”

“A very oldhumanacquaintance?” I asked pointedly.

John David sighed and reached for his cup.

“John David.”

“Yes?”

“Please tell me she is not a vampire.”

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