Gerry Bartlett - Real Vampires Know Size Matters

Size doesn’t matter to Glory, but in the book business, it can be a factor. I owe so much to the size of my fantastic street team, whose members are out there spreading the good news about the Real Vampires series both online and in the trenches every day. You know who you are. Thanks so much!

Also, I have a sizeable support system in place and couldn’t have gotten this book done without it. My wonderful editor, Kate Seaver, has always believed in this series, and I really appreciate that. The team at Berkley does such a super job, from the illustrator Chris Long, who cooked up such a fun cover this time, to my copy editor, Mary Pell, who knows my series better than I do. What a great experience I’ve had here!

My superstar agent, Kimberly Whalen, always has my back. I’m so glad she understands contracts and fine print, because I’d sure hate to tackle them.

Finally, my awesome critique partners suffer with me through every step of creating a book. Thanks to Nina Bangs and Donna Maloy for the long lunches and shopping orgies necessary to keep my writing muse fed. You guys are priceless and irreplaceable.

We’dbeen invaded.

You can do this. Suck it up. Attack. Use your powers. Instead I leaped up on the sweater table, shaking and screaming along with the mortals in the shop. No. Get down, Gloriana St. Clair, and face the enemy.

Weapons, I needed weapons and I sure as hell wasn’t using my fangs this time. I glanced around. The two women perched on the chair next to the dressing room were no help. Their shrieks could have broken glass. Three more women crouched on the counter in front of the cash register. More mortals, totally useless, though one swung an umbrella at the horde. Impressive compared to me.

I tossed a sweater at one. Stupid. Didn’t even slow it down. I was a failure. A wimp. I couldn’t quit shaking and couldn’t force myself to get off the table. If a god from Olympus attacked, I’d be right in his face, toe-to-toe. Or another vamp. Bring him on. But whoever had planned this had found my weakness. I thought I heard one right there, on the table, and moaned, horrified.

Mice! Dozens of them. Even Achilles had his heel thing. Glory St. Clair has hers. I don’t like anything that’s creepy or crawly. Now my reputation and the business I’d built from nothing were in shreds along with my pride. Would you shop where you saw mice? I’d have joined the stampede for the door myself if there’d been time.

My clerk Lacy, a were-cat, was running around like a starving woman at an all-you-can-eat buffet in kitty heaven. She whipped past me with a smile on her face, making sounds too gross to think about.

“Oh, God, there’s another one!” The brave soul on the counter with the vintage umbrella slashed at the floor, knocking a mouse toward the door. That got the logjam there cleared with a chorus of screams.

I heard a smack near my feet. “Lacy, what the hell are you doing?” I gagged and realized I was going to have to whammy every mortal in the place.

“Glory, relax. I’ve got this under control.” She held up a brown bag that rustled ominously. “There must be dozens of them. I wonder who sent them. An early birthday present from Mom?” She scrambled after a dark shadow that streaked across the floor. “Naw. She knows a stunt like this could get me fired.” She glanced at me.

“She’d be right.” I didn’t want to know what had made that smudge on her cheek. Lacy was a natural beauty, red hair, porcelain skin. She dressed in the vintage clothes we sold here and looked like a model in them. Tonight the seventies bell-bottoms and tie-dyed tee were taking a beating.

“Well, not Mom. These are the pet store variety. Feeders. For snakes, that sort of thing. Someone brought them in here. Planted them. There goes another one.” She dove and disappeared under a dress rack.

I heard a crash and a mannequin bit the dust. The women who’d been balanced on the chair had made a run for the door but were tangled up in a dress display.

“My God! My God! Get it off of me!” Loud sobs then the sounds of my mannequin being used as a sledgehammer.

Obviously I had to suck it up or we’d have mass hysteria on our hands.

“Ladies, please, calm down.” At least I wore boots as I jumped in front of them, staring into first a pair of brown eyes, then blue. I had them mesmerized in a second. “You are fine, the store is fine. There are no mice, just a little game we’re playing with discount coupons.” I shivered as a mouse ran by and I kicked it toward Lacy. “Here’s a twenty-five percent off coupon for your next visit. We’re closing for some minor repairs. Mugs and Muffins next door has great coffee if you want to wait. We’ll reopen in about thirty minutes.” I snatched coupons from behind the counter then tugged them both to the door, dodging even more mice. These things had been planted. I had a feeling I knew who’d done it.

I got those two women out then went back for the three hugging their knees near the register. Ignoring Lacy’s crows of triumph as she claimed more victims, I got the last customers whammied and out of the shop, coupons in hand. Finally, I hopped on the counter myself and waited for Lacy to finish.

“Whew. That was amazing. I bagged at least three dozen.” Lacy grinned, her mouth still smeared with something I didn’t want to think about. “Whoever pulled this stunt must have cleaned out a pet supply store.” She stapled the wiggling bag closed then pulled out a wet wipe from the container under the counter and cleaned off her hands and face. Lacy glanced at me. “You okay?”

“Not really.” I sighed. “Had your dinner break?”

“Um, yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little carried away. I need to clean up the floor too.” She laughed. “Hey, I’m a predator. Think how you’d act if someone came in and offered you that negative blood type you love.”

“I get it.” I swallowed, not sure I wasn’t going to hurl. “Thanks. You saved the shop.”

“No problem. But I can sniff out a mouse a mile away.” She wiggled her nose. “They weren’t here yesterday. I wonder who . . .”

The phone rang before I could answer her. “Vintage Vamp’s Emporium, the best store on Austin’s Sixth Street.”

“Really? Is it? I heard it just closed.” The female voice was full of satisfaction. “Mice infestation. Disgusting.”

“Who is this?” I jumped off the counter, pretty sure I already knew.

“Is this the owner? Gloriana St. Clair?”

“Yes. And is this the woman who thinks she can win Jeremiah Campbell back? Mel?”

“How did you like my little gift?” There was a throaty chuckle. “Did you scream? Of course you did.”

I bit my lip, refusing to answer. Had she been in here? Seen me make a fool of myself? Damn it, if I’d known . . . What could I have done differently? Dematerialized and damn the consequences.

“Give him up, Gloriana. Or I’ll run you out of business. Leave town and leave him to me. It’s the smart play.” The line went dead.

I stared at the receiver, tempted to throw the cordless across the room. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” Lacy had a mop in her hand. “Who was it?”

“A woman Jerry used to be with.” I carefully set the phone back where it belonged. Killing it wouldn’t help. It was the woman I wanted to tear into pieces. “Clean up and I’ll reopen. I’m not going to let that bitch ruin my business.”

“It’ll take a minute.” Lacy didn’t move. “Tell me about this woman. Mr. Blade has an old flame? What’s going on? She sent in the mice?” She dipped the mop into a bucket of sudsy water that reeked of pine cleaner. “I might want to write her a thank-you note.”