Page 7 of Dead & Breakfast
“She ate both meat and cheese from the charcuterie boards last night.”
“That washoursago! She could’ve had a change of heart!”
“You’re taking this awfully seriously.”
“It’s our livelihood!”
“Undeathlihood?”
“Something smells delicious,” said Nora Anderson herself from the doorway.
Arthur startled, almost dropping a plate of sausage.
Sal leaped forward to usher their guest into the kitchen. “That would be the aroma of freshly baked biscuits.”
“I love biscuits!” Nora’s gaze traveled over the many options Arthur had laid out for her, eyes widening. “And waffles, and eggs, and sausage…”
Sal gave Arthur a smug smile as if to say,I told you so.
Arthur ignored him. “I hope you slept well, Ms.Anderson. Is there anything I can get for you? Breakfast will be served shortly.”
“Please, call me Nora.” She pointed through the window at the hedges outside. “I’d actually love to take a walk through the garden, if that’s okay?”
The timer for the biscuits blared. Salvatore, who stood next to the oven, stared at the appliance as if he’d forgotten why it might be beeping.
“The biscuits!” Arthur exclaimed, pushing past his husband to extract the fluffy, buttery, carb-filled delights.
Salvatore ducked out of the way at the last moment, narrowly escaping being singed by the baking sheet.
Once Arthur had set the biscuits on the cooling rack, he grabbed the neon paisley umbrella from the stand, put on his most winning smile, and said, “One garden tour coming right up.” He turned toward the glass doors and was met with a set of big green eyes.
“You have a cat?” Nora asked.
Arthur had all but forgotten about the animal. “It’s a stray, alas. You’d better not pet it in case—” Arthur stopped himself from mentioning terrible infectious diseases before breakfast. “In case it scratches.”
Salvatore grabbed a sausage from the counter and exited first. “Don’t worry, Nora. I’ll lure it away with snackies.”
The cat ignored him and the sausage, darting instead toward the edge of the patio and looking back over its shoulder as if in disdain.
Arthur didn’t blame it. The wordsnackieswas altogether repulsive. He stepped outside, opening his umbrella to keep the sun off. Vampires didn’t crumble into dust at the merest exposure to sunlight the way popular media proposed. It was more likely to put them to sleep, if anything. Daylight could sap a vampire of energy and weaken their powers, but as Arthur had yet to exhibit any of these effects himself, he was more concerned with the threat of skin cancer. It couldn’t kill him, but melanoma removal procedures were terribly painful. It was decidedly best to avoid the sun altogether if he could.
“Aw, it seems nice,” Nora said. “Maybe you can take it to the vet, get it checked out. There’s a good no-kill shelter a couple towns over.”
“I know,” Salvatore said wistfully. “I’ve been to visit a few times, but I’m not allowed to bring one home.” Salvatore frowned at Arthur.
“Well, that’s downright prejudicial,” Nora said, setting her jaw. “Just because you’re vampires doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have pets.”
Salvatore chuckled, an unsettling sound to the unaccustomed. “Don’t get me wrong, there were certain allegations thrown around about treating them like juice boxes, but we don’t drink animal blood. Only ethically sourced, free-range, one hundred percent human for us!”
Arthur shot him an incinerating glare. Blood was absolutely off-limits as far as conversation topics were concerned. Especially with breakfast sitting on the counter. Salvatore really ought to know better.
“Really, it’s up to this one.” Salvatore jabbed his thumb at Arthur. “This monster doesn’t like animals.”
“Cats! I don’t likecats. I like dogs just fine, you know. And fish.Fish are delightful.” Arthur took a breath and pulled his shoulders back. “Besides, it’s not about me. It’s about our guests. What if one of them is allergic? We need to be hospitable to anyone who might visit—”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Nora said. “I have a mild allergy myself, but…” She trailed off as the cat doubled back to loop around her legs. “You heard that, did you?” She laughed. “I swear, if I wasn’t allergic, cats wouldn’t be remotely interested in me. It’s like they’re drawn to it.” She booped the cat’s nose. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“It’s true, we are drawn to the things most likely to kill us.” Salvatore sighed dramatically.
