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  A Little Bit Vampy

  Riddler’s Edge Book Seven

  by A.A. Albright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © A.A. Albright 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

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  Website: https://aaalbright.com

  Table of Contents

  1. I Don’t Like Mondays

  2. An Electrifying End

  3. See You at the Crossroads

  4. His Varibad Crystal

  5. Blood Magic, Elemental Magic

  6. Pru’s Prophecy

  7. Cute and Sparkly

  8. Poor Old Arnold

  9. What’s With All the Sticks?

  10. A Very Compelling Gentleman

  11. One Grumpy Detective to Rule them All

  12. The Most Argumentative Lovers of All Time

  13. Alvis

  14. The Monster

  15. The Source

  16. A Cure for Crazy

  17. A Little Bit Vampy

  18. The Staff of Wrath

  19. With Friends Like Us

  20. Shake and Stake

  21. The End is Nigh

  22. The Invisible Thread

  23. The Sundown Showdown

  24. You Can’t Get the Staff These Days

  25. Cats Versus Dogs

  26. A Few Days Later

  1. I Don’t Like Mondays

  I’d never been a big fan of Monday mornings. In Riddler’s Edge, it was the most likely day for murders to occur. It was also the most likely day for me to be severely sleep deprived. But this Monday, I was sure, was bound to be different.

  Sure, it was only a couple of days since the evil group known as Vlad’s Boys had gate-crashed my friend’s wedding, almost killed my boyfriend, and made some vague (but nevertheless frightening) claims about their future aims.

  Despite all of that, I was feeling positive this morning. The stormy weather had subsided, the town had its electricity once again, and there wasn’t a single evil fiend in sight.

  I knew that they were still out there, somewhere, lurking and plotting. But I had my friends around me. Wonderful friends. Whatever Vlad’s Boys threw our way, we could deal with it – just as long as we stuck together.

  Right now, I was with Pru, one of those very friends, and we were on our way to visit another. Greg had taken a hit for the team recently. He had been injured by the death spell meant for my boyfriend, and had only survived because Pru had turned him into a vampire.

  ‘You’re looking happy this morning,’ said Pru as we entered the grounds of Greg’s apartment building. She had donned a pair of sunglasses, but I had a feeling there were some fairly bleary eyes beyond.

  ‘Shouldn’t I be? We’re about to turn Greg back into Greg.’ I held up a vial of fae blood. ‘The death spell didn’t kill him. He’s healthy as an ox. Is that the right saying? I feel that, as a writer, I should know these things. And yet I don’t. Anyway, he’s healthy as a something.’

  ‘He’s healthy as a vampire,’ said Pru. ‘That’s what he’s healthy as.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘Which means he was probably up all night and will not take too kindly to the two of us turning up at eight in the morning with some fae blood for his breakfast.’

  ‘Don’t blame me. He’s the one who said he wanted to be changed first thing on Monday morning so he could get back to work. Once he is back to his old self, we need to come up with a strategy to fight Vlad’s Boys. I have a sneaking suspicion I know who they’re going to target next, and it rhymes with the bay.’

  Pru sawed her jaw. ‘Yeah. Everything I’ve been seeing suggests that they might have some aims in the faes’ direction. But Ash … don’t get your hopes up on Greg and his mad tech skills helping us track Vlad’s Boys. He … he might not be as eager as you think.’

  I stopped walking, right in the centre of the apartment building’s courtyard, taking her by the arm and looking her in the eye – well, in the sunglasses. ‘What do you know, Pru? You’ve been weird all weekend. Every time I try to discuss our next move you’ve suddenly got somewhere else to be. And I’ve heard you and my dad whispering together a couple of times.’

  ‘I don’t know anything.’ She wriggled out of my grasp and began to head up the steps to Greg’s flat. ‘That’s the thing about the future. It shifts. This is different than anything I’ve seen. I just hope … I just hope it’s different in every single way.’

  I followed her up the steps, about to press her to tell me more, but instead I stopped and stared, gazing in horror at the monstrosity before us. I’d been to Greg’s flat more times than I could count. It didn’t always look exactly the same. Sometimes he left the door open. Sometimes he let his mail pile up because he was too busy gaming. That was about as different as things ever got with Greg. But now … now it was looking so very, very strange that I was having trouble processing.

  ‘Pru, are you seeing what I’m seeing?’

  She wrung her wrists and took a deep breath. ‘Yip. I’m seeing it, and I am not liking it. But no matter how long we stay here staring, it’s not very likely to change, is it?’ She continued up the last couple of steps, with me reluctantly following behind, grimacing at the outside view of Greg’s flat.

  There was a fountain, just to the right of his front door. It was big, bad and ugly, carved from black onyx, with blood-red water flowing from the mouths of what looked like screaming villagers. At least I hoped it was water spurting from their mouths.

  ‘Pru.’ I tapped her arm. ‘Pru, have a sniff of that water, just to reassure me.’

  ‘It’s coloured water with something added for viscosity. No blood. But yes, it’s in pretty poor taste.’

  That was a serious under-exaggeration. There’d been a fountain there once before when Greg’s neighbour, Beth Berry, had a genie under her control. I had thought Beth’s fountain was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, but Greg’s deserved a whole new category.

  I looked askance at Pru. I couldn’t be sure, what with the sunglasses, but I thought she seemed more resigned than shocked. Had she been expecting to see that fountain? And, if she had been expecting to see screaming villagers with blood streaming from their mouths, then what other shocks was she expecting to find inside?

  I had a strong and sudden urge to run away. I had been wrong, so very, very wrong – this was not a new and improved Monday. This was a normal, horrible, ominous Monday – the kind I did not like. Maybe, instead of seeing this day to its dreadful conclusion, I ought to take myself off on a cruise. I could enjoy the all-you-can-eat prawn cocktail and leave all of this behind me. I mean, it wasn’t as though the fate of my family and friends was at risk or anything. Oh wait, it was. Criminy.

  While Pru twiddled her thumbs and looked sadly at the ugliest fountain ever created, I knocked gingerly on the door. I could hear muffled movements inside. After a few seconds, the door creaked open, and we heard Greg say, ‘Come in quickly, will you? I can’t stand the daylight.’

  I scurried in with Pru trailing behind. The entire flat was in darkness. There were curtains drawn over each and every window. Not just any curtains, though. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that Greg’s plain beige window coverings had been replaced with long, dramatic, red and black drapes that looked like they belonged in a gothic castle.

  In fact, there was a whole lot in here that looked like it belonged in a
gothic castle. Candles flickered suddenly to life, against cold stone walls. They gave the whole room an eerie glow, shedding light on the new furnishings.

  This was one of those moments when the only thing to do was gulp. Greg’s carpets were gone, replaced with large flagstones and expensive-looking rugs. Where once there had been a simple radiator, there was now a wide fireplace with wingback chairs either side.

  The front door of the flat slammed shut behind us, and I stared at Greg. Gone was his usual uniform of jeans, and a T-shirt with a cheeky slogan. Now he was wearing a cloak, much like the cloak that Roger Balfe, one of the members of Vlad’s Boys, had worn. His skin had been powdered to make it look paler, and his lips were painted dark red. He was even holding a goblet filled with blood.

  ‘Did you em … did you use your wand or telekinesis to open and close the door and light those candles?’ Pru asked softly.

  He looked at her, with one brow lifted and a smile on his face. It was a new kind of smile, one I’d never seen Greg wear before. It was equal parts saucy, cocky and sneering. ‘Oh Pru, Pru, Pru,’ he said. ‘Why ask questions you already know the answer to? My mind and your mind can be one, you know.’ His other eyebrow lifted. ‘As can other things.’

  My ears were screaming in protest, but all I said was, ‘Is the flat bigger or something, Greg? It sure seems that way.’

  He stopped looking at Pru and turned to me. ‘Ah. The nosey reporter wants some answers. Why does that not surprise me? Yes, Aisling, I have knocked through. No one’s lived next door since my last neighbour was arrested. Some of her decorative touches were permanent – not as many people want to live with a golden bidet as you might think – but I’ve made the most of the space. Would you like to take a wander through? I know you can never help yourself from sticking your nose into other people’s business.’

  I frowned at my friend. It was true that I was incredibly nosey – it’d be pretty hard to be a reporter otherwise – but Greg had never been nasty about it before. If anything, we’d joked about one another’s foibles in a pleasant, bantering way. This morning, there was no humour to his tone, but there was a whole lot of cattiness. ‘Greg, are you okay?’ I asked him. ‘It’s just … you don’t really seem like yourself.’

  ‘Don’t I? That’s funny, because from what I can tell, I’m a vampire acting like a vampire. Why are you here anyway? I mean, other than to poke your beak in where it doesn’t belong.’

  While I gasped, Pru pulled off her sunglasses and fixed him with a steady, no-nonsense gaze. ‘You know why we’re here, Greg. You asked us to come here. You got the all-clear from the healers yesterday. The death spell can’t hurt you anymore, so there’s no need for you to remain a vampire. It’s time to take the cure.’

  ‘The cure?’ He stalked into the newer section of his flat, the part that had formerly been his neighbour’s, and swept a hand through the air. ‘Why would I want to take a cure for being a more powerful being? Take a look around. How do you think I achieved all of this in the space of one weekend? By compelling people to do the work and to give me the furnishings for free, of course. I’m taking to being a vampire like a duck to water.’

  Warily, I walked into the newer section. This time, even a gulp wasn’t going to cut it. There were no candles in here, but even in the gloom I could see two large coffins, one on the floor, and one upright against the wall.

  Greg walked towards the upright coffin. There was some kind of bar inside, across the top, but I couldn’t figure out what it might be for. ‘I won’t be taking the cure,’ he told us. ‘And neither will I be going back to work at the Daily Riddler. One cannot be both a wizard and a vampire.’

  Pru let out a sigh that, once again, made me feel she might have been expecting this outcome all along.

  I approached Greg – cautiously, like one ought to approach a friend who has clearly lost their marbles. ‘Yes, one can, Greg, as you well know,’ I said. ‘A witch often loses their power if they convert, but your power, like any wizard’s power, is not innate. So yes, one can be a vampire and a wizard. One can also be a bloody good photographer and IT guy as well as being a vampire. If one wants. But … I get the feeling that you don’t want. Which is a problem, because we could really do with your help right now. Vlad’s Boys aren’t messing around, Greg. They’re going to do something major, and they’re going to do it soon.’

  He took a slurp from his goblet, shrugging. ‘That’s hardly my problem, now that I’m no longer an inferior wizard.’

  ‘Inferior?’ Pru finally reacted with some emotion, shaking her head, her eyes filled with sympathy – and something that I suspected was far, far deeper than that. Love, maybe? ‘Greg, you were never inferior. No wizard is inferior, but especially not you.’

  He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘You’re very sweet, Pru. But we both know that’s not the case. Back when I was nothing but a wizard I might have agreed with you. After all, when one is an inferior wizard, one does not know that one is inferior. How can one? But now that one is a vampire, one sees things more clearly. Oh, and please call one Gregariad.’

  ‘Gregariad. That’s … that’s not a name,’ I said.

  ‘It is now. It is my vampire name, my chosen and true name. And as for my job at the Daily Riddler …well, I am in the process of selling some of the old Greg’s technological inventions, so I no longer need something as silly as a job.’ He turned a withering stare my way. ‘And before you try to pester me about other matters, I will not be taking any part in your stupid investigations, nor in this petty Vlad’s Boys business. Now, please don’t forget to close the door behind you. One feels like going back to sleep.’

  The door to his flat flew open. Presumably he was using his telekinetic power again. Pru and I both stared at him, as Greg – or Gregariad – turned into a bat and headed for the upright coffin. I now understood what the bar was for. It was for Gregariad to cling with his bat feet, while he hung upside down and went to sleep.

  2. An Electrifying End

  As we walked back through the town, Pru refused to be drawn into conversation.

  ‘You know something,’ I accused for the umpteenth time. ‘I might not be a mind-reader like you, but I know when something’s up. What is it, Pru? I remember you saying that if you ever told Greg what you felt about him it would end in tragedy. But you haven’t done that. You didn’t tell him how you feel. So what’s going on here? What is this thing that you and my dad seem to know about but I don’t?’

  She ran a hand through her long black hair, looking irritable. ‘I didn’t want to keep a secret, but … you know how it is with the future. I can only tell you what I can tell you. And I will tell you what’s going on. Just not now. Because right now I think I should go back to Greg’s flat. Alone. I might be able to talk some sense into his stupid head if it’s just me and him, one to one.’ She pointed to my bag. ‘Can I have the cure?’

  ‘Of course.’ I handed her the vial of fae blood. ‘But Pru, be careful, okay? Something’s really off with him.’

  She gave me a tight hug. ‘I’ll be careful,’ she promised, before breaking the hug and walking away.

  As I turned to watch her go, I noticed how busy the town’s latest business was. There had been builders in the small shop all weekend – the shop right next to Spring’s Blooms – but I’d been too busy worrying about Vlad’s Boys and Greg to go and ask what the new business would be.

  Now I could see that it was a café, called Claire’s Café. Curious, I headed over. As I walked inside, I could see that the place was already filled with customers. Grace, my editor, was seated at a table in the corner, biting into a muffin.

  I sat down across from her. ‘How’s Greg?’ she asked. ‘Is he up to coming in now that he’s taken the cure, or does he need a day or two to recuperate?’

  I winced, unsure of how to explain the many oddities I’d just witnessed. ‘I em … I don’t know what’s up with him,’ I said eventually. ‘He seemed a bit enamoured with being a vampire. He sa
id he’s not interested in coming into work anymore.’

  Grace placed her muffin back on her plate, delicately wiping her mouth with a napkin. ‘I can’t say it’s completely unexpected. It can be rather a rush, I hear, when you first become a vampire. I’m sure he’ll come back to work soon. And honestly, whether he does so as his old self or as a vampire doesn’t matter much to me. He’s still our Greg, isn’t he?’

  I smiled wanly. The truth was, I had no idea whether he was still our Greg or not.

  ‘So what do you think of this place?’ Grace asked.

  I glanced over at the counter. A pretty brunette was serving the long line of people. Everything on display looked amazing, and the coffee smelled like it had been brewed by the goddess herself. ‘It looks good. They sure did work quickly to get it ready, though. Do you know much about her?’

  Grace held up her handbag and pulled out what looked like a magnifying glass, but what I knew to be an Aurameter, a device which was used to see whether a person had the power of a witch or not.

  ‘She’s not a witch,’ Grace informed me. ‘That much is clear from the brief look I took. This shop is actually owned by your grandfather, you know. He’s always had a property management company looking after things, and the people who rent the space have always been human. The last business here sold sporting goods, the business before that sold surfboards. No one’s ever lasted long. And there’s no reason to think that Claire’s not human, seeing as all his other tenants were. I’m curious about her though, I must admit. I feel as though I’ve seen her before, though I can’t quite place where. She was very busy when she served me, but maybe we could go and have a chat when the crowds die down.’

  I looked over at the line again. Unlike Grace, I didn’t feel any stab of recognition as I focused on Claire. She certainly seemed to be fitting in, that much was clear.

  Mark Moon was at the head of the queue, and Claire was looking at him with wide, love-struck eyes. As she served him, they both shot red-faced smiles in each other’s direction.