Page 44 of How to Stake a Vampire

My alpha sighed. “Well, Lord Chudwell is clearly not dead, Gregory.”

The funeral director had managed to stop wailing and was now directing her assistants to restore some semblance of order to the no-longer-relevant proceedings. Vampires were slowly emerging from their hiding places. They whispered among themselves and shot wary looks in our direction.

An ambulance siren rose in the distance.

We got Lord Chudwell’s account of the attack while the paramedics cleaned dog drool off his head and reattached it with some sort of supernatural medical tape that apparently worked better than super glue.

“There’s not much to tell, really,” the vampire explained. He was holding on to Mr. Snuggles while a medic worked on him. “I was in my study reviewing my investment portfolio when I heard music. Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.”

“Nice tune,” the paramedic muttered.

“The intruder appeared shortly after,” Lord Chudwell continued. “He was a tall fellow, dressed like he’d stepped out of the 1800s. Looked vaguely familiar.” The glance he shot at Barney was so quick I almost missed it. “Didn’t even introduce himself before jabbing me with that syringe.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“Wait.” Detective Johnson frowned. “You think you might recognize him in a lineup?”

Lord Chudwell shrugged and almost lost his head again. “Possibly.”

I had been mulling over something for several minutes.

“Maybe that’s why he took so long to recover,” I told Samuel and Detective Johnson slowly. “Maybe whatever this drug the attacker is injecting his victims with delayed his revival.”

“Whatever it was, it was most unpleasant,” Lord Chudwell confirmed with a shudder. “I managed to fight him off and we stumbled out into the corridor. The last thing I remember is tripping on something fluffy and falling down the stairs.”

Everyone carefully scrutinized the three Persian cats.

Coco and Truffles exchanged a troubled look.

“What?” Bella asked with an innocent blink.

“It was definitely Bella,” Bo hissed to Pearl.

Lord Chudwell cleared his throat. “The next thing I know, I’m waking up to this young lady’s scent.” He studied me curiously. “I’m allergic to powerful werewolves, you see, and your Eau de Luna is particularly strong, Miss West.”

I resisted the urge to sniff myself.

“You know who I am?” I asked warily.

“Even if I didn’t, your scent would have been enough to tell me who you are,” Lord Chudwell said with a small smile. “It’s been nearly three hundred years since I was in the presence of one as powerful as you.”

I blinked. “You knew Elizabeth Rochester?”

“I had the pleasure of fighting alongside her, yes,” Lord Chudwell said. “Of course, I was younger then.” His expression grew misty. “Even my allergies couldn’t stop me from standing beside one as strong as her.”

“I’m, er, sorry about the whole head situation by the way,” I said guiltily. I glanced at my dog. “Say sorry, Bo.”

“I didn’t mean to mess up your coiffure,” Bo huffed, tail swinging.

I was about to point out that this wasn’t the apology I was looking for when Lord Chudwell spoke.

“Think nothing of it. These things happen at the best funerals.” The vampire chuckled. “In fact, it was quite entertaining scaring the bejeezus out of the Vampire Council.”

Barney’s mouth twitched.

Rita turned up just as Lord Chudwell was carefully wheeled away by paramedics, Barney in tow. The vampire had insisted on accompanying his old friend to the hospital.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” the coroner said leadenly as she watched her victim leave.