Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
It didn’t seem to faze him. The cause was noble, if that part of their story could be believed. John wasn’t sure he did believe it or if he even cared. It all sounded like an awful big hassle.
A warning blared within him. Something was skulking up behind.
He’d moved away from the others after the story, wanting to sit on his own and reflect for a while.
“That’s a dangerous place to be without a very good reason,” he said, a growl lacing his words.
The presence kept coming but veered slightly to angle to John’s side. An old creature stepped in line with him, facing front but looking his way. He had a long face and loose jowls with blindingly white teeth. As John watched, the canines elongated.
“Vampire?” John asked, not seeing much of a threat.
“Tigress?” the vampire replied. He wore a strange little smile, like they shared a joke and he’d just told a punchline.
Was John the punchline?
He turned back. He decided he didn’t much care if he was.
The vampire took a sidestep closer. “I visited your camp. Pretty lonely. Do you get any callers?”
John’s brows pinched together. “What?”
The vampire nodded like that had been an acceptable answer. “Yes, I thought as much. You’d be much happier with us. The Irish woman says so. She’d tell you herself, but she’s busy drinking the poisonous brew. They’ll regret offering it to her. She’ll drink them dry. Phil knows—but don’t call him Phil. That’s a secret.” Placing a long, spindly finger to his lips, he said, “Shhhh.”
John was starting to feel mildly uncomfortable, not an easy feat. He’d mostly given up caring what people thought of him, what they said, how they acted—if someone wasn’t a direct threat, he ignored them. Something told him that wouldn’t be wise with this creature. He was a vampire, after all. They could be wily and unpredictable, and in this one’s case, fairly creepy and somewhat off. It was probably the age. This one seemed old as dirt.
“I happened to notice your crochet kit,” the vampire said. He sidestepped closer still. “A little blue creature. I didn’t notice any doilies. You know, the doily is the Picasso of the crochet world. I’m working on creating the perfect one. My skill has backslid in recent months, what with the demands of hiker-killing flowers, but I won’t give up! One day I will master that doily, and then…” The creature’s smile grew. He held his hands near his chest, his long fingers dangling like some sort of vaudeville villain. “Colors!”
For the first time in maybe his entire life, John felt like picking up the rock he currently sat upon and scooting it away in wariness. There was a time for fighting, and a time to maybe slink away. This might be the latter.
A large shifter cut across the merriment. The gorilla, with alpha power and energy, and a beta title. It was one of many things in this “convocation” that John had a hard time reconciling.
“Oh, here comes the chief of four-leaf clover finding.” The vampire watched the shifter come closer. “He has an eagle eye. I can’t seem to top him. It’s like he’s been doing it all his life.”
The shifter hit the vampire with a hard stare, full of all that lethal power and energy. His body flared, a warning to get lost.
The vampire didn’t seem to notice.
“Broken Sue,” the vampire said pleasantly. “Or, as he’s known around the campfire, Suspicious Susan.”
The shifter’s frame tensed for just a moment, the equivalent of him rolling his eyes.
“Edgar, you’re needed by the alphas,” the shifter told the vampire.
“What joy it is to be needed. I just hope she doesn’t ask about the stray gnome I saw peeking out of the ferns on the way here. If I was a guessing man, I would say it has murderous tendencies. But I’m not a man, so I shouldn’t guess.” One of his eyes closed. It didn’t seem like a wink, but might’ve been? John wasn’t sure.
He very nearly moved his rock this time.
The vampire loped off.
“Don’t mind him,” the shifter said. “He’s part of the Ivy House crew. They’re all a little eccentric. He’s very old. Vampires tend to get a little unbalanced when they are that old, I guess.”
That wasn’t a good enough explanation for that creature.
The shifter put out his hand for a handshake, and John rose to take it.
“Sue,” the shifter said.
“That’s actually your name?” John blurted. He wasn’t usually so frank, but that vampire had rattled him somehow. “Sorry. John. You probably know me as Yazanth Golden Fang. It’s not a name I use, anymore. That I really want to hear, anymore.”
Sue shook John’s hand. “Did you choose a new surname to go with it?”
“Smith. John Smith. About as boring as you can get.”
Sue grunted before taking a seat on the ground next to the rock. “Yes, I’ve heard of you. I’ve had a few names, as well. Lately, it was Brochan. Then Broken Sue because of a mage meeting and a changed identity. Now…Sue, I suppose. Not sure where the vampire got ‘suspicious’ from, but I’ve found it’s better not to ask. He might tell you.”