Page 33 of How to Stake a Vampire
Bo pressed his face to the car window and wagged his tail. “Do you think any of them come alive at night?”
Samuel rolled his eyes at the Husky’s gruesomely hopeful tone as he parked the Bentley. We exited the car.
The fact that the Hawthorne alpha had decided to accompany us had come as a surprise. It felt weird having my boyfriend along on a case.
It was also making my insides flutter in all kinds of ways. I found myself studying his perfectly formed behind with focused concentration as we approached the mansion.
“Abby?” my alpha said awkwardly.
“Yes, Samuel?”
“How about you dial down those thoughts?”
I flushed a little under the others’ leaden stares. “Sorry.”
Bo studied me warily. “Pearl was right about you.”
“Why, what did Pearl say?”
“That you have a one-track mind. And that Samuel’s headstone will probably say ‘Died while bravely performing his conjugal duties.’”
Samuel missed a step and almost stumbled. Didi curled a lip.
Seeing as I couldn’t exactly deny Pearl’s claim, I decided not to rise to the secondhand insult.
A trio of figures was waiting for us on the porch. Two of them looked familiar.
Officer Brigham paled a little at the sight of me.
“Hello,” the werewolf said nervously.
The last time I’d seen him, he’d been squatting on his superior officer, both the unfortunate victims of my actions at the Holts’ ball.
Detective Johnson—said superior officer in question—stood beside Officer Brigham. He scrutinized my hands.
“I am relieved to see you are missing your crystal skull tonight, Miss West,” the werewolf grunted.
I was never going to hear the end of that story.
A woman in a practical gray suit stared at me curiously. She had short purple hair and the kind of no-nonsense expression that suggested she’d seen it all and wasn’t impressed by any of it.
“Samuel,” she greeted with a curt nod.
“Rita.” Samuel made the introductions. “Abby, this is Rita Frank, the supernatural coroner for this district.”
We shook hands.
“It’s a pleasure to meet the new Hawthorne luna.” There was a slight echo to the coroner’s voice.
“Are you a—?” I paused awkwardly.
“A banshee?” Rita said with a dry smile. “Yes, retired. Turns out a career in wailing prepared me well for dealing with the recently deceased and their grieving relatives.”
“I like her attitude,” Bo huffed.
Officer Brigham and Detective Johnson observed the Husky warily.
Rita gave my dog a steady look. “I see he’s as entertaining as the rumors say he is.”
