The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires by Katie MacAlister Page A

Sarah said, heading for the door, but it did no good. The bright bluish light that had filled the room suddenly went off, plunging us into relative darkness. We were light blind for a moment or two, moments which the two women used to hurry out the door before anyone could stop them.
    â€œWhat is wrong with everyone here?” I asked, rubbing my head and glaring at the people around the table. “Couldn’t someone have pulled that old lady off me?”
    Bettina gave me an odd look. “Pardon? What old lady are you speaking about?”
    â€œWhat old lady? The one who just tried to bash my brains into mush on the floor!”
    Four sets of eyes watched me warily, as if I was the one who was behaving oddly.
    â€œPerhaps you would like to lie down for a few minutes while we continue with the séance,” Bettina said kindly. “There is a sofa in the reception room which you are welcome to use.”
    I looked from person to person, then to Sarah.
    â€œDidn’t you just see the two women who came in here?” she asked them all.
    All four of them shook their heads.
    â€œNo one? You’re telling us you didn’t see anyone else come into the room?” Sarah asked, her hands on her hips.
    â€œNo,” Milo said. “No one but the six of us.”
    â€œUnauthorized visitors are not allowed at client séances,” Bettina added. “Shall we continue?”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Sarah asked, confusion written all over her face. It probably mirrored mine.
    I shook my head very, very carefully. “I have no idea, but I think it’s time to leave.”
    â€œDefinitely,” she said, helping me to my feet and opening the door for me. I felt like I had been run down by a steam roller. My head and shoulder were hurting so much it was making me sick to my stomach. Sarah paused at the doorway and looked back at the four people at the séance table. “You English are just downright mean sometimes!”

Chapter 6
    â€œWell?” Sarah asked the next morning as I staggered into the small room on the first floor that the pub owner said would serve as our private dining room.
    â€œI’m still alive, my head is still attached to my body, and no other evil elderly people tried to beat the crap out of me after I went to bed,” I said, slumping gratefully into a chair.
    â€œDid you talk to the police yet?”
    â€œJust got off the phone with them. Good morning, Darla. Yes, thank you, coffee and toast. And perhaps an egg, and that delicious-looking marmalade. Is there any bacon? Oh, good. I’ll have some bacon, too. And a grapefruit, if you have one.”
    The barmaid/waitress who fed us breakfast and dinner gave me a curious look, but toddled off to bring me the requested foodstuffs.
    â€œAnd?” Sarah asked around a mouthful of eggs and grilled tomato, a combination that made me shudder just looking at it.
    â€œIt’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.”
    She made a face that would be more appropriate on her youngest child.
    â€œI talked to the same sergeant who interviewed us yesterday, and he said they haven’t found Theo, nor the two deranged women who attacked me at the séance. They have an address for Theo, but it’s somewhere up north, and whoever is checking on it hasn’t reported in yet. They want us to go in later and look at mug shots, in case he has an arrest history.”
    â€œSo basically there are no leads,” Sarah said, blowing on her cup of tea.
    â€œExactly. Thanks, Darla.” I sipped the coffee set before me with pleasure that approached bliss, and wondered if I couldn’t just have it administered intravenously.
    â€œI’ve been thinking,” Sarah said as she set down her cup.
    â€œGood gravy, not that! Shall I alert the newspapers?”
    â€œOh, ha ha. You should be a comedian.” She dabbed at her lips and gave me a stern look that had me giggling into