Free Vampire Blood by Kathryn Meyer Griffith Page A

tapped her on the shoulder, a steaming mug of coffee clasped in her hands.
    “Thought you might like some coffee before the sun gets too hot. Just made a fresh pot.” Maude handed Jenny a ceramic mug with cats all over it.
    Maude’s eyes swept the mottled wall before them. “Your father hurt himself Friday more than he wanted to admit, huh?”
    After shrugging noncommittally, Jenny took another long sip of her coffee. “You’ve known him longer than me, Maude. You should know how mule-headed he can be.”
    “Don’t I, Jenny dear,” Maude sympathized. “How is he?”
    “Who knows? He won’t see a doctor, and he looks awful. It isn’t just the fall. He’d been under the weather for days before that. All he wants to do is sleep. I’m worried about him, but he promises he’ll be back on the job tomorrow, bright and early.”
    “Tell him not to dare come back over here until he’s as fit as a fiddle, you hear? A day or two won’t make any difference to George and me. Don’t want him having a stroke painting our house.”
    “Talking about us men, again, huh?” Her husband George, a neat but rotund man with a circled wisp of white hair on a nearly bald head, stood behind them. He had a newspaper in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his right as he beamed at them.
    He leveled blue eyes almost the exact shade as his wife’s at Jenny and winked. “Jenny, you sure are looking pretty these days. Even with that sunburn. Don’t look any older than you did when you were a teenager. What’s the secret? How about letting me in on it?”
    “Lots of chocolate and fresh air.” Jenny laughed, and gently motioned with her full hands around her. “George, you never change, either—always the flatterer.”
    “I wouldn’t want him to.” Maude hugged her husband, and he took her hand.
    “How’s Ernest doing?” George inquired.
    “Still kicking, you know him. Sore from that fall, so he’s sleeping in today. Be back tomorrow.”
    “Glad to hear he’s okay.” George seemed relieved. He turned to study the house.
    He started pointing out some things to Maude patiently as she asked questions. Would one coat be enough? Did they really want it white again? Was that hole caused by termites? Weren’t Jenny and her dad doing a fine job?
    Jenny watched them with a half-smile as they talked about their home.
    “Maude?” George unfolded the newspaper and handed it to his wife, as if he’d just remembered it. “Did you read where they’ve found more slaughtered animals right outside Summer Haven? It’s getting worse.”
    “Uh, huh. I read it while you were still snoozing, dear.” Maude’s face was somber. “Though I suspect there’s much more to it than that. Look on the back page. Twenty C. There’s a short story on a bag lady they found dead inside a trash dumpster outside a Denny’s. She died in the same way as the animals you’re talking about, and they’re blaming all of it on some mysterious malicious cult.” Maude was looking at Jenny now, her eyes frightened.
    “You still don’t think it is a cult, do you?” Jenny asked, intrigued.
    Maude shook her head. “Nope. Something terrible is plaguing us. Call it a premonition, but I don’t think it’s over. There’s something horrific going on.” She seemed to grow thoughtful. “I’d love to talk to those farmers and to the person who found that dead woman.”
    The older woman swallowed nervously and shivered as a cloud passed over the blazing sun and shadowed their faces.
    George’s eyes held a mute appeal.
    “I know. It’s none of my business. I’m retired. Well, no matter. I won’t get involved.” She patted George’s hand indulgently with a wan smile. She seemed to know he hated such talk. He was selfish with their time together since his last heart attack.
    “Honey,” George dropped a kiss on her white head, “I’m glad to hear that.
    “Are you about ready then to go into town? You said something about needing some groceries