Page 29 of How to Stake a Vampire
“Let me at him!” she snarled, legs cycling a couple of feet off the floor.
The vampire on the bed scowled. “I must say, your behavior is most uncouth, sir.”
“I’m a lady, you blood-sucking Neander—!” the dwarf growled before Irene muzzled her desperately with a hand.
“She’s spunky,” Bo commented, tail swinging.
Sometimes, I really missed my old job at Pennington & Graves.
Barney gave the vampire in the bed a dirty look. “What did you do, William?”
Count de Vile’s gimlet gaze locked on Barney. His expression turned suspicious. “What are you doing here, Bludworth?”
“He’s visiting,” Lady Atkins simpered from the doorway.
“Trust me, I’d rather be anywhere else,” Barney muttered.
Count de Vile curled a lip. “All I did was state the truth. The cuisine here leaves a lot to be desired. Why, my steak tartare was more tartare than steak and that Type-O wine might as well have been a Pinot Noir.” He crossed his arms. “At this rate, I shall perish from starvation!”
The pixie’s eyes flashed. “You’ve been here half a day. And this isn’t a goddamn gourmet restaurant.”
Count de Vile looked down his nose at her. “Watch your mouth, peasant.” He sneered. “May I remind you that I pay that pittance you call a salary.”
“Not from Dave’s audits, you don’t,” Didi muttered.
The pixie closed her eyes. “Ugh, my blood pressure.”
“Calm down, Hazel.” Joyce turned to us, amber lighting up her eyes briefly in her distress. “As you can see, our patients are not in a position to?—”
“I’m afraid this is rather urgent,” Didi interrupted firmly.
I could tell the witch was trying hard not to turn everyone into a frog.
“Yeah, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can get out of this nuthouse,” Gavin contributed.
“You said it, bro,” Bo huffed.
“Do you have a room where we could interview the patients?” I asked Joyce diplomatically.
Count de Vile narrowed his eyes. “You smell like a Hawthorne, wolf. You must be that new luna of theirs.” He scanned me from head to toe, like someone scrutinizing the best-by label on a block of moldy cheese. “You look like you’re of common stock. Victoria must be disappointed.”
Bo stamped his feet. “How rude!”
My wolf’s hackles rose a little. “Victoria and I get along fine, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Yeah, and Pearl is my bestie,” Bo huffed indignantly.
“Bestie” was stretching it, but I decided not to point this out to my dog.
Count de Vile arched a haughty eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that. Those two have high standards.”
A low growl left my throat.
Joyce evidently sensed I was about to go she-wolf on her patient and hastily arranged to bring the three victims to a treatment room.
Baron Philippe Beaumont was wheeled in on a gurney, still wailing. He stopped abruptly at the sight of us.
“Barnabas?” he quavered.
