Free Vulgarian Vamp (A Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery Book 5) by Barbara Silkstone Page A

forever with wine cask after cask as far as I could see into the darkness. There appeared to be enough wine to satisfy a dozen soccer-team moms for a year.
    “Where is she?” I asked.
    Renfield moved his hand in a hushing motion. “I’ll call her,” his voice was phlegmy. He cleared his throat.
    I stood behind Roger for the sake of my belly. The tip of the spatula handle braced on his right shoulder. Kit edged his body close to my backside. I was expecting the Minotaur based on the hell the woman reeked in the graveyard.
    “Mina! Oh Mina!” Renfield called in a singsong voice. “Come outenze!” Definitely a cuckoo clock dude.
    I felt a chilly presence and the sound of hiccups, followed by a scratching sound like a trapped rat sneaking behind us. Roger, Kit, and I jumped, clinging to each other.
    Bram turned slowly as if he knew who was coming.
    Someone stepped out of the shadows.
    “Mina!”

Chapter Fourteen
    A four-foot tall porcelain doll with soft dark eyes, tiny fangs, and a cute black bob, materialized between two of the large wine casks. I made a note to get the name of her hairdresser.
    The little vamp’s skin had never seen the Caribbean sun or the Indian Ocean; her complexion was flawless except for a sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of her nose. She wore a strapless dress with a velvet top and lace skirt. I joined Roger and Kit in a sigh, she was that pretty.
    Mina shrieked at Bram and ran toward him. Her arms outstretched, her fingers clutching.
    Roger launched himself at the little woman. With one hand she sent my fiancé flying into the first row of wine casks. He slammed hard and dropped to the ground, two casks rolled over him, a third landed on his chest.
    A barrel tussle ensued. Roger won. He scrambled to stand, leaned his butt against a pile of casks, and went for another roll-off. The score was even, barrels one, Roger one.
    Looking like a wax figure from a religious theme park, Bram managed to bite his pale lip. Don’t bleed.
    I licked my chops checking for tooth blood.
    Mina had red drips from the corners of her cupid-bow mouth. She barely paused as she continued to advance on Bram. She grabbed him around the waist. It looked to be an attack.
    My slow learner of a lover flew at the doll-girl again, evidently not recalling vampires possess supernatural strength.
    The little vampire flicked him like a flea. Roger shot passed me, his brown wingtips barely missing my head. Kit caught him like a softball sailing over second base and dropped him to the floor.
    Tears soaked the question marks in Bram’s eyes.
    Mina held the priest and tipped her head like a little girl dancing with her daddy. “Bram! I missed you soooooo much!”
    I couldn’t decipher his expression as it morphed into a kaleidoscope of emotions. He took a step back causing the vampire to release her hold and plop on her butt. She giggled and rolled to her side struggling to right herself. Each time she tried to prop her head on her elbow she missed, and clunked on the ground bursting into contagious laughter.
    I caught the sniggers and Kit followed.
    Giggle-pooper Roger was behind me. He whispered in my ear, “What the fu… udge?”
    Bram took Mina’s hands as she stood. “I remember you,” he said.
    She wobbled despite his grip. “Yesh…shs me, Mina.” She giggled and tumbled over again.
    “Is she drunk?” Kit asked.
    “No drunk. Just drank.” She shot him a sweet red smile and leaned forward falling against Bram.
    Renfield wiggled his way between us and ran to her side. She leaned against him accepting his help but arguing. “My Brammy is here. I must hug him.” She glommed on Father Bram.
    “Miss Mina was … is … a gypsy vampire,” Renfield said in a soft voice. “She has been weaned from blood to wine. At times she cannot hold her grapes but the effects soon pass.”
    Clasping Bram, Mina turned and smiled at the little old man. “Every vampire should have a Renfield. Oy vey, the hangovers before he