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

my coffee. “About those two women last night.”
    â€œIf you’re going to pick on me because I was beat up by an elderly woman—”
    â€œNo, I’m not. But that makes up a good part of my point. It’s not normal for little old ladies to go around attacking people.”
    I rubbed the bump on the back of my head, wincing slightly when my fingers found a particularly tender spot. “Granted, but that doesn’t change the fact that one did. While everyone stood around and let her, I might add.”
    Sarah’s blue eyes were uncommonly grave. “I told you that I couldn’t move. Judging by what happened with the others at the séance, I assume the same thing applied to them, only they had a mind wipe afterward.”
    â€œMind wipe?” A horrible suspicion occurred to me. “Oh no, you’re not going to tell me that what happened last night was something paranormal, are you?”
    â€œLet’s look at the facts,” Sarah said, ticking items off her fingers. “First, two women show up at a séance knowing your name and that you are a virtue.”
    â€œI am not a virtue,” I said, waiting for Darla to serve my breakfast and leave the room before continuing. “A virtue is not a person, it’s a concept.”
    â€œYes, but how did they know you would be at that exact spot at that exact time?” Sarah asked, triumph evident in her voice.
    â€œEasy.” I smeared a little homemade berry jam on my toast and took a bite. “They asked the pub owner. Or Darla. Or the shopkeeper down the road whom you told just about our entire schedule to. Any one of those three people knew we were going off to that séance.”
    â€œYes, but how would someone know who to ask, eh?”
    I rolled my eyes and chewed my toast.
    â€œSecond, the women were there to administer the first in who-knows-how-many trials. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I know we’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
    I licked a smidgen of jam off my upper lip. “Right, and since Theo mentioned something about trials earlier, it’s obvious they are working with him. Honestly, Sarah, it’s as clear as the noses on both our faces—you’re a famous author. You have gazillions of readers all over the world. Somehow, Theo got hold of the news that you were going to be in the area, no doubt from your English publisher, and since you make no bones about believing in every out-there theory floating around, he decided to set up an elaborate hoax to sucker you in.”
    â€œSucker me in for what?” she asked, looking mulish.
    I waved the jam spoon around. “I don’t know, but it has to be something to do with money. Why else would he go to all the time and expense of hiring people to playact the parts of Hope, Tansy, and the big, horsey Dame Margaret woman.”
    â€œYou can’t tell me you seriously believe that nothing paranormal happened last night!” Sarah’s face mirrored her disbelief. “How on earth do you explain that bright blue light? Or Mystic Bettina and the others having their memories wiped clean? Or the fact that I was held immobile while you were being beaten up?”
    â€œFlat-panel lights in the ceiling, they were lying, and hypnosis,” I said, wiping the crumbs off my mouth and pushing my plate aside. “You ready to go? We can swing by the police station first, before we head out to look for the Hound of the Baskervilles.”
    â€œIt’s not the Hound of the Baskervilles, as you very well know. The Black Shuck is a ghostly black dog according to local legend, and evidently it’s become quite active the last few years…oh, never mind. The Shuck can wait. It’s not supposed to appear before dark anyway. You’re being entirely unreasonable about this, Portia. The bet aside, I don’t understand why you are so unwilling to admit that you have become involved