Page 14 of How to Stake a Vampire (Diary of a Reluctant Werewolf #2)
DEAD WRONG
A strangled “Gah!” left me.
Didi gasped in my ear.
Victoria and Constantia gurgled. The funeral director sucked in air, her hair uncoiling around her head like a spring. Samuel and Gregory swore. Barney’s eyes rounded. Pearl stared unblinkingly.
A stunned hush fell over the funeral parlor.
Didi, Gavin, and Detective Johnson started shouting in my ears.
I startled and reflexively gripped the edge of the casket. Unfortunately, I forgot to control my enhanced werewolf strength. The coffin cracked and began to tilt. I jumped back as it tipped over with a crash that could probably be heard three counties away, my heart pounding.
Lord Chudwell’s body bounced twice on the floor.
My stomach lurched when his perfectly coiffed head popped clean off on the third bounce and began rolling.
Bo pounced. “I’ll get it!”
“ Nooo! ” Victoria and I yelled in unison.
The head rebounded off Bo’s snout and struck Constantia’s leg.
The vampire screamed and kicked it.
Our aghast gazes followed as it formed a perfect arc through the air.
Lord Chudwell’s eyes snapped open mid-flight. He stared at us as his head spun comically across the parlor.
He landed amidst the vampire mourners with a fleshy thunk. More screaming ensued, the crowd scattering like startled pigeons in tuxedos, dignified composure all but abandoned. Bo took this as a challenge and bounded after the rolling head.
Victoria groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I can never show my face in society again.”
“Oh, come now, you’re exaggerating.” Pearl smirked, tail swishing lazily. “That Husky did not disappoint.”
Samuel and I dodged between the assembled vampires and went after Bo with grim determination, Barney on our heels.
The banshee funeral director started wailing, whether from distress or professional instinct I couldn’t tell and hardly cared at this point. The sound set off every car alarm in the parking lot and put my wolf’s teeth on edge.
“Are you getting this?” I heard Didi ask Gavin in a macabre tone tinged with delight over the shrill blaring.
“Every humiliating second,” the dragon newt confirmed.
Detective Johnson was trying hard not to laugh.
Bo finally secured Lord Chudwell’s head gingerly in his jaws and turned to face us, his tail wagging furiously.
His “I got the head!” came out “Gnf hrfff gnu haff!”
Lord Chudwell finally spoke.
“Excuse me, could someone please explain why I am currently staring at the back of a dog’s throat?” he asked in a dignified if muffled voice. He paused. “One who appears to have had sausage for breakfast.”
Barney reached Bo first and carefully extracted his friend’s drool-covered head from my dog’s mouth.
“Giles, you’re alive.” Relief colored his voice.
Lord Chudwell looked around. “Barely, by the looks of it,” he remarked with impressive aplomb. “Is this my funeral?”
“Master,” Betsy blubbered, rushing over. Quincy followed, chin wobbling alarmingly and the three Persian cats trailing elegantly in his wake.
“See?” Bella whispered with ghoulish pleasure to Coco and Truffles. “Totally doomed.”
Gregory stormed over. “What the hell is going on, Samuel?”
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.
“Not as embarrassing as what just happened,” Detective Johnson said with a smirk. “I’ll show you the video later.”
I became the focus of resigned stares.
Bo plopped down on his haunches and panted noisily. “This was fun. We should do this kind of thing more often.”
The last of the vampire mourners had filed out of the funeral parlor, leaving us with the Tremaines and the director.
“We apologize again for what happened, Aubrey,” Gregory said stiffly.
“Yes,” Victoria murmured, chagrined. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“It was hardly your fault,” Aubrey said with a pinched expression. “Although this will go down in history as Amberford’s strangest funeral.” She flashed a loaded look my way. “At least it wasn’t as bad as what happened at the Holts’ ball.”
I swallowed a sigh, conscious today’s incident had done little to help my reputation. My earpiece crackled to life, startling me.
Didi’s voice came through.
“We’ve got movement. Tall figure in a vintage coat, behind the memorial garden.”
“He’s moving fast!” Gavin warned.
Samuel and I bolted toward the exit, Detective Johnson and Bo on our heels.
“Where are you going?” Gregory asked, puzzled.
“To catch our perp!” Samuel shouted.
By the time we reached the memorial garden, the figure Didi and Gavin had seen was gone. The only clue to his presence was a leather-bound volume lying in the grass.
“That’s our guest book!” Aubrey exclaimed breathlessly as she arrived with the others.
“The man who’s been attacking vampires is here?” Constantia asked nervously.
Detective Johnson gingerly picked up the book with a handkerchief.
Samuel frowned. “Was.”
I could tell the vampire’s uncanny speed worried Samuel as much as it did me.
A worried whine issued from Bo.
Even with my wolf’s super senses, I could only smell a fading scent. My scalp prickled. It was just as Bella and her two companions had described it: old and dark.
Detective Johnson suddenly cursed.
“What?” I asked tensely.
“Take a look at this,” the werewolf said grimly.
He showed us the guest book. It was filled with elegant signatures and condolences from today’s vampire mourners. At the bottom of the last page, written in what looked and smelled suspiciously like fresh blood, were the initials "L. B."