Free Bled & Breakfast by Michelle Rowen

happy marriage.”
    “Sometimes you don’t find the perfect man until very late in life.”
    I assumed that meant Granny had a boyfriend. Well, good for her.
    I texted Thierry immediately to see where he’d gone and why he’d left without me. When I didn’t receive a reply right away, I decided to head out after him.
    The night was warm, but there was electricity in the air. I liked that feeling, just before a storm, kind of a metrological excitement just beyond what one could see. When I was a kid, I’d sit out back of my parents’ house and close my eyes, letting that charged air sink into me. At the time, I’d believed being struck by lightning would give me superpowers.
    From what I’d learned about the supernatural world in less than a year, I wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t. Still, I was in no hurry to find out.
    “Thierry, where did you run off to?” I said under my breath as my heels clicked against the sidewalk. It wasn’t like him to disappear without saying anything.
    Wait. Who was I kidding? It was
exactly
like him.
    He’d probably headed to the nightclub to get a head start, time being of the essence and all that. However, the least he could do was reply to my text or call me.
    Despite being both perplexed and annoyed at his vanishing act, a sliver of worry worked its way under my skin. He’d better not be doing anything dangerous right now that might attract the attentions of murderous alpha witches.
    Luckily, it wasn’t too far a walk from the inn. It was just after ten o’clock, and there were plenty of people at the club. Mulligan’s was a large English pub–style bar with dartboards, lots of beer, and karaoke after dark. As I entered the establishment, the lilting sounds of those who were completely tone deaf met my ears.
    I’d been encouraged to sing karaoke once at an office party when I was a personal assistant a few years ago. I’d had one too many tequila sunrises, and . . . let’s just say, Christina Aguilera had no reason to feel threatened.
    The lesson I learned that night: If you’re going to take an embarrassing risk, try to ensure there are no video cameras present. It was the last time I allowed my inner diva free. I’d kept her locked in the basement ever since.
    The bar was elbow to elbow with both locals and tourists. I scanned the many faces, searching for a sign of Thierry, but didn’t spot him. My level of worry rose a few notches.
    I pulled my cell phone out and texted him again.
    WHERE ARE YOU???
    When there was no immediate response, I shoved it back in my purse. Since I was here, I might as well have a drink and try to relax. The bartender came over when I finally made it to the bar.
    “What’ll it be?” he asked.
    “Margarita, please,” I said, after noticing that it was the special of the evening. If I couldn’t get palm trees and a beach for my honeymoon, at least I’d get a vacation-worthy cocktail.
    He disappeared and returned a minute later with my order. I paid him and sipped on the fruity drink.
    “Nice of you to join us,” a voice said to my left.
    I froze. I recognized that voice. It belonged to a witch.
    Slowly, I turned to see Miranda Collins standing there, giving me a dirty look.
    Definitely a witch. Definitely with an ax to grind about Owen. Miranda was a woman with anger issues.
    And definitely a suspect, although I doubted she’d be so blatant with her hatred just before she made him go splat.
    But I could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.
    I forced a smile on my face, one that didn’t show off my fangs. At first glance, most people would immediately assume bad dental work, not vampirism, but why risk it?
    I needed answers. And Miranda Collins was going to give them to me.
    “I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I’m Sarah Dearly. It’s nice to meet you . . . Miranda, right?”
    “You’re best friends with Heather.” She said it like it was an accusation.
    “I just said that so you’d stop picking on