Page 19 of Generally Hospitable (Good To The Last Demon #7)

“That, amongst other things,” she confirmed. “Darling girl, you are not an ace of spades or, heaven forbid, an adventuress. Unless you want to be an ape leader, I’d recommend bathing.”

“Are you right in the head?” I asked, wondering where I’d left my damn cell phone.

It was probably in the laundry room. I was going to be murdered by a nutjob, and I’d lost my chance to save myself because I’d been playing Candy Jelly Crush.

The headline would be horrifying— Homeless-looking, Hygiene-free Paranormal Romance Author Beheaded by Victorian Psycho.

If I lived through the next hour, I was deleting the game for good.

“I think it would do wonders for your spirit if you donned a nice tight corset and a clean chemise,” she suggested, skillfully ignoring my question. “You must pull yourself together. Your behavior is dicked in the nob.”

I sat down and studied her. My about-to-be-murdered radar relaxed a tiny bit, but I kept the lamp clutched tightly in my hand.

My gut told me she wasn’t going to strangle me.

Of course, I could be mistaken, but Purple Gal didn’t seem violent—just bizarre.

Plus, the lamp was heavy. I could knock her ladylike ass out with one good swing.

How in the heck did I know her? College?

Grad School? The grocery store? At forty-two, I’d met a lot of people in my life.

Was she with the local community theater troop?

I was eighty-six percent sure she wasn’t here to off me.

However, I’d been wrong about life-altering events before—like not knowing my husband was boffing someone young enough to have been our daughter.

“What language are you speaking?” I spotted a pair of scissors on my desk. If I needed them, it was a quick move to grab them. I’d never actually killed anyone except in fictitious situations, but there was a first time for everything.

Pulling an embroidered lavender hankey from her cleavage, she clutched it and twisted it in her slim fingers. “Clementine, you should know.”

“I’m at a little disadvantage here,” I said, fascinated by the batshit crazy woman who’d broken into my home. “You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

And that was when the tears started. Hers. Not mine.

“Such claptrap. How very unkind of you, Clementine,” she burst out through her stupidly attractive sobs.

It was ridiculous how good the woman looked while crying.

I got all blotchy and red, but not the mystery gal in purple.

She grew even more lovely. It wasn’t fair.

I still had no clue what the hell she was talking about, but on the off chance she might throw a tantrum if I asked more questions, I kept my mouth shut.

And yes, she had a point, but my hygiene was none of her damn business.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on the last time I’d showered.

If I had to guess, it was probably in the last five to twelve days.

I was on a deadline for a book. To be more precise, I was late for my deadline on a book.

I didn’t exactly have time for personal sanitation right now.

And speaking of deadlines…

“How about this?” My tone was excessively polite. I almost laughed. The woman had illegally entered my house, and I was behaving like she was a guest. “I’ll take a shower later today after I get through a few pivotal chapters. Right now, you should leave so I can work.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, absently stroking Fat Stella, who purred. If I’d done that, I would be minus a finger. “It would be dreadfully sad if you were under the hatches.”

I nodded. “Right. That would, umm… suck.”

The woman in purple smiled. It was radiant, and I would have sworn I heard birds happily chirping. I was losing it.

“Excellent,” she said, pulling a small periwinkle velvet bag from her cleavage.

I wondered what else she had stored in there and hoped there wasn’t a weapon.

“I shall leave you with two gold coins. While the Grape Nuts were tasty, I would prefer that you purchase some Lucky Charms. I understand they are magically delicious.”

“It was you?” I asked, wildly relieved that I hadn’t been sleep eating. I had enough problems at the moment. Gaining weight from midnight dates with cereal wasn’t on the to-do list.

“It was,” she confirmed, getting to her feet and dropping the coins into my hand. “The consistency was quite different from porridge, but I found it tasty—very crunchy.”

“Right… well… thank you for putting the bowl in the sink.” Wait. Why the hell was I thanking her? She’d wandered in and eaten my Grape Nuts.

“You are most welcome, Clementine,” she said with a disarming smile that lit up her unusual eyes. “It was lovely finally meeting you even if your disheveled outward show is entirely astonishing.”

I was reasonably sure I had just been insulted by the cereal lover, but it was presented with excellent manners. However, she did answer a question. We hadn’t met. I wasn’t sure why she seemed familiar. The fact that she knew my name was alarming.

“Are you a stalker?” I asked before I could stop myself.

I’d had a few over the years. Being a New York Times bestselling author was something I was proud of, but it had come with a little baggage here and there. Some people seemed to have difficulty discerning fiction from reality. If I had to guess, I’d say Purple Gal might be one of those people.

I’d only written one Regency novel, and that had been at the beginning of my career, before I’d found my groove in paranormal romance.

I was way more comfortable writing about demons and vampires than people dressed in top hats and hoopskirts.

Maybe the crazy woman had read my first book.

It hadn’t done well, and for good reason.

It was over-the-top bad. I’d blocked the entire novel out of my mind.

Live and learn. It had been my homage to Elizabeth Hoyt well over a decade ago.

It had been clear to all that I should leave Regency romance to the masters.

“Don’t be a Merry Andrew,” the woman chided me. “Your bone box is addled. We must see to it at once. I shall pay a visit again soon.”

The only part of her gibberish I understood was that she thought she was coming back. Note to self—change all the locks on the doors. Since it wasn’t clear if she was packing heat in her cleavage, I just smiled and nodded.

“Alrighty then…” I was unsure if I should walk her to the door or if she would let herself out. Deciding it would be better to make sure she actually left instead of letting her hide in my pantry to finish off my cereal, I gestured to the door. “Follow me.”

Thick Stella growled at me. I was so tempted to flip her off but thought it might earn another lecture from Purple Gal. It was more than enough to be lambasted for my appearance. I didn’t need my manners picked apart by someone with a tenuous grip on reality.

My own grip was dubious as it was.

“You might want to reconsider breaking into homes,” I said, holding the front door open. “It could end badly—for you.”

Part of me couldn’t believe that I was trying to help the nutty woman out, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I kind of liked her.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied as she sauntered out of my house into the warm spring afternoon. “Remember, Clementine, there is always sunshine after the rain.”

As she made her way down the long sunlit, tree-lined drive, she didn’t look back. It was disturbingly like watching the end of a period movie where the heroine left her old life behind and walked proudly toward her new and promising future.

Glancing around for a car, I didn’t spot one. Had she left it parked on the road so she could make a clean getaway after she’d bludgeoned me? Had I just politely escorted a murderer out of my house?

Had I lost it for real?

Probably.

As she disappeared from sight, I felt the weight of the gold coins still clutched in my hand. Today couldn’t get any stranger.

At least, I hoped not.

Opening my fist to examine the coins, I gasped. “What in the heck?”

There was nothing in my hand.

Had I dropped them? Getting down on all fours, I searched. Thick Stella joined me, kind of—more like watched me as I crawled around and wondered if anything that had just happened had actually happened.

“Purple Gal gave me coins to buy Lucky Charms,” I told my cat, my search now growing frantic. “You saw her do it. Right? She sat next to you. And you didn’t attack her. Right ?”

Thick Stella simply stared at me. What did I expect? If my cat answered me, I’d have to commit myself. That option might still be on the table. Had I just imagined the entire exchange with the strange woman? Should I call the cops?

“And tell them what?” I asked, standing back up and locking the front door securely.

“That a woman in a purple gown broke in and ate my cereal while politely insulting my hygiene? Oh, and she left me two gold coins that disappeared in my hand as soon as she was out of sight? That’s not going to work. ”

I’d call the police if she came back, since I wasn’t sure she’d been here at all.

She hadn’t threatened to harm me. Purple Gal had been charming and well-mannered the entire time she’d badmouthed my cleanliness habits.

And to be quite honest, real or not, she’d made a solid point. I could use a shower.

Maybe four months of wallowing in self-pity and only living inside the fictional worlds I created on paper had taken more of a toll than I was aware of.

Getting lost in my stories was one of my favorite things to do.

It had saved me more than once over the years.

It was possible that I’d let it go too far. Hence, the Purple Gal hallucination.

Shit.

First things first. Delete Candy Jelly Crush. Getting rid of the white noise in my life was the first step to… well, the first step to something.

I’d figure it out later.