Night Shift Witch, #1 by Cate Lawley

Author:Cate Lawley [Lawley, Cate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cate Lawley

12

Dancing with a Devilish Vamp

Ben managed to pull himself together pretty quickly. By the time a woman opened the door, he was only a little pasty under his freckles.

The wide-eyed brunette who stood in the doorway looked more like a librarian than a mistress or a vamp. She was pretty, but in no way overtly sexual. Conservative clothes, comfortable but not unfashionable shoes, tortoiseshell glasses that accentuated rather than hid her eyes…Brooke wasn’t anything like what I’d expected.

Maybe she’d pass as the girlfriend, but the mistress?

Then again, there was always the possibility she was another personal assistant.

“So you’re the investigation team. Richard rang and said you’d be over shortly. I’m Brooke Sanders, Robert’s”—she paused, and her eyes crinkled at the corners—“friend.”

Hmm. Labels, stereotyping in general, might be a problem for me. My disbelief clung tightly, even in the face of her declaration. I’d give it some more thought when I wasn’t face to face with a dimpled, smiling wannabe-librarian mistress. A decidedly cheery, not remotely mournful librarian mistress.

“Since you’ve spoken with Richard,” Alex said, “and you’re aware of Robert’s recent death, perhaps you wouldn’t mind answering some questions.”

She swung the door wide and then disappeared into the house.

Alex didn’t hesitate to follow, but Ben leaned close and whispered, “Vampires can only come inside a house where they’ve been invited…right?”

“Myth,” Brooke called out from the back of the house.

“They have excellent hearing.” Maybe I should have mentioned that earlier. Then again, I hadn’t known Brooke was a vamp, so it hadn’t been relevant. I apologized—because it seemed the right thing to do, and Alex wasn’t about to—then said, “Would you rather wait in the car?”

Ben shook his head and marched his very pasty self into Brooke’s house.

If something happened to Ben, I would never forgive myself. I’d known him just over twenty-four hours, and I was already getting attached. I blamed our brief but intense connection when I’d used my witch sight on him.

Alex wasn’t wrong that my studies could use a little more focus.

I shook my head and followed behind Ben.

As we walked through the house, I couldn’t help thinking Brooke’s taste was oddly similar to my grandmother’s. Too much stuff crammed into too small a space, well-dusted figurines lined up on shelves, pictures covering the walls from chest height to just shy of the ceiling, and far too much furniture for the square footage—just like Grandma’s place. I could almost smell lavender water, her favorite scent.

I urged Ben to a quicker pace. As big as the house was, I felt like I was in a tiny, poorly ventilated closet.

After a short—but much too long—jaunt, we found Alex and Brooke in the kitchen. In contrast to the rest of the house, the kitchen was sparse. The counters were clear of clutter, and the sun shone brightest in this room.

A kettle whistled softly.

“Tea?” Brooke shut off the burner and then opened a cabinet full of tea tins. “Or coffee?”

Alex declined, I shook my head, and Ben just stood there looking a little like a mouse caught in a corner by a very watchful cat.

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