Free The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires by Katie MacAlister Page A

pinched me.
    Bettina gave me a stern look, and pulled another piece of paper from the pile. “I believe we will try a question a little less confusing. Here is one: is my brother James happy—”
    â€œSorry we’re late,” a voice interrupted as the door to the séance room was opened. Sarah gave a startled yelp, and jumped in her chair.
    Silhouetted in the doorway were two shapes, the voice female. “Bloody badgers, it’s dark in here. Tansy, find the switch, will you?”
    We all blinked as an overhead light suddenly flooded the room with light. Two middle-aged women, both with close-cropped, greying hair, stood smiling at us. One was very short and rather round; the other was tall and had a brusque manner about her that reminded me of the late British actress Dame Margaret Rutherford. The Dame Margaret woman peered nearsightedly around the room, her frown clearing when she spotted me. “There you are! Knew we’d run you to earth somewhere around town. All ready, are you? That your champion?”
    She looked at Milo, who appeared just as startled as the rest of us.
    â€œUm…no, this a gentleman named Milo.”
    â€œAh, it’s the lady then? Excellent! Equality of the sexes and all that.”
    I scooted my chair back and got to my feet, feeling it necessary to clear up a misunderstanding that evidently involved me. “I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. I’m not expecting to meet anyone this evening.”
    â€œBloody badgers,” Dame Margaret swore, turning to her companion. “Did we bollocks it up again?”
    â€œExcuse me, but this is a private session,” Bettina said with a determined smile, rising from her seat. “If you wish to book one of your own, you can do so tomorrow between the hours of nine and—”
    â€œWhere’s the bloody card…I know I had it.” Dame Margaret patted her navy jacket. “Had it when we left Court. Tansy, you pick it up?”
    â€œOh, let me check.” The smaller woman rustled around in a voluminous purse, extracting a small gold card. She had a grandmotherly look about her, with twinkling brown eyes, a little pink nose that twitched ever so slightly, and soft grey curls that bobbed as she fussed in her purse. “Yes, I do. Here it is. The name is Portia Harding. Such a pretty name, Portia. I had a cat named Portia, once. Do you remember it, Letty? She was orange and white, and had a nasty habit of piddling in my shoes, but otherwise was a very smart cat. I was devastated when she was trampled by a contingent of Cromwell’s men.”
    You could have cut the silence in the room with a mackerel.
    â€œHonest to Pete, I know the English are supposed to be eccentric, but this is just ludicrous,” I whispered to Sarah.
    â€œThey certainly are… different here,” Sarah agreed, watching with interested eyes as the two women continued.
    â€œThat wasn’t Cromwell’s men. You have your history mixed up again. It was James II’s party that fired the town and killed everyone, your piddling cat included.”
    â€œLadies, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to leave. We’re in the middle of an important séance here, and we’ve just made contact.”
    â€œJames II?” The short woman named Tansy wrinkled her brow, ignoring Bettina’s plea. “Are you sure? I distinctly remember cursing Cromwell.”
    Dame Margaret shook her head. “Of course you cursed him; we all did. Don’t you remember the group cursing parties we used to have with the powers and virtues? All that thunder and lightning and those absolutely glorious bonfires that lit up the countryside for miles.”
    â€œLadies!” Bettina strode forward with a smile that was a bit tattered around the edges. “I must insist that you leave now.”
    â€œI liked the wine back then,” Tansy said with a sad little sigh. “You