The Vampire's Housekeeper Chronicles, Volume II by J Bennett

Author:J Bennett [Bennett, J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

I’m a coward. But who wouldn’t be at least a little terrified to inform a vampire that there are no more episodes left of his favorite TV show?

“Gilligan was quite foolhardy as usual,” Nathaniel grumbles as I take away the empty glass of prune juice from his bedside. The moon is newly risen, and my boss is propped up in his coffin, wearing his favorite bed attire of long white nightgown and Ebenezer Scrooge hat.

He says, “At this rate, their small party shall never leave the island and meet with Jeannie and Major Nelson for dinner.”

Soooo, I might have told my boss a little white lie that Gilligan is friends with Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie and was on his way to meet her for dinner when that pesky storm struck. Is it my fault that he has somehow jumped to the conclusion that he’s still watching I Dream of Jeannie?

“This side adventure is quite extensive,” Nathaniel adds.

He’s on season two of Gilligan’s Island.

Like I said, coward, coward, coward.

“I know,” I say, “such an odd narrative choice, but I’m sure Gilligan and the others will get home soon and everything will focus back on Jeannie and Major Nelson.”

Double coward.

Triple coward.

“In the meantime, I think we have a little adventure of our own, don’t we?” I say.

Nathaniel looks at me over his long, curved nose. The usual scowl is in place, likely caused by my blatant wearing of pants, which, even after all this time, continues to shock his delicate sensibilities. At least I didn’t pair them with a tank top. I learned that lesson the first summer of my employment with Nathaniel. Let’s just say that the word “harlot” was dropped a lot until the offending flower-print green tank top was replaced with a t-shirt.

After I leave Nathaniel to his intricate wardrobe machinations, I find Hunter waiting in the parlor. A warm tingle wakes up in my belly at the sight of him in his dapper scarlet waistcoat and cravat. He holds a top hat in his hand. Somehow, in the time I’ve known him, this costume that he wears as standard protocol for his apprenticeship with Nathaniel has turned from something silly and more than a little degrading into attire I find almost sexy. I’m definitely not complaining about the tight stockings and breeches that highlight his thin figure.

That familiar smile turns in my direction.

“My lady,” he says as I reach the bottom of the staircase. He offers a proper bow. “You grow lovelier by the day.”

This is our little joke. The bow. All the fancy little ways he greets me. He used to do it just in Nathaniel’s presence to demonstrate that he was a gentleman of good character, but now he does it whenever we see each other.

“Mr. Graves,” I say, and perform a little curtsy, holding an invisible skirt. “I hope the night finds you well.”

“Oh, is it night? Your smile is so bright that I didn’t notice,” he responds.

Why do my armpits suddenly

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