Page 71 of How to Stake a Vampire
Gavin went back to his camera but kept glancing at his lunch bag with wounded pride.
The radio crackled again.
“Base to Team—I mean, this is Base. Mindy’s reporting movement inside the blood bank,” Nigel said. “A well-dressed customer just entered the building. He’s wearing an expensive suit and talking like he owns the place.”
“That could be any vampire aristocrat,” Barney remarked.
“Here, I’ll get Mindy to send us a visual.”
The monitor in the van came to life.
“Hello,” someone whispered loudly amidst the static.
We all screamed a little.
“Is that you, Mindy?” I mumbled, clutching my chest.
“Yes,” Mindy replied. “I’m in the system.” The ghost sounded pleased with herself. “Would you like me to describe the atmosphere?”
“No, thanks,” Samuel said hastily. “We just want to focus on that customer. Can you show us?”
“Oh.” Mindy sounded disappointed. “That sounds a bit boring, but you’re the boss.”
Samuel squeezed his eyes shut and muttered something under his breath.
Detective Johnson made a sympathetic sound and patted his shoulder.
The monitor switched to the view of a security camera in the foyer. We stared at a familiar-looking figure.
“Isn’t that Count de Vile?” Gavin asked suspiciously.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Samuel snapped.
“Being a pain in the ass by the looks of it,” I observed.
The reception staff were having a hard time dealing with the count.
“He must have self-discharged from the hospital,” Didi muttered.
“I bet Hilda and Hazel are celebrating,” Bo panted.
Samuel scowled. “Ludwik might leave if he sees him. Didi and Gavin, go inside and see if you can get him out of there. The rest of us will get in position.”
Didi and Gavin exited the van with unenthusiastic expressions. They tried their best to look like a witch and dragon newt in need of specialty blood products as they headed for the front entrance.
“I still think I should go with you,” Bo protested as Samuel, Barney, and I got ready to head out to cover the back exit.
He was staying in the van with Detective Johnson to serve as our lookout.
“Dogs aren’t allowed inside blood banks,” I told him for the third time.
“What about service dogs?”
“You hate being a service dog.”
“I could be for once,” Bo huffed. “A very helpful one, in fact.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You tried to eat evidence during our last stakeout.”
