Top Secret Vampire (Monsters, PI #4)

1. Reese

Chapter 1

Reese

I ’d only been back in my home town of Mystic Harbor two months when a seagull attacked me while I was walking on the shore. If I hadn’t almost stepped on shells placed in a pattern that wrote Leave Town on the path from my house to the beach, I’d believe the incidents weren’t related. But it wasn’t until my blender exploded this morning, sending shards of glass, metal, and my spinach smoothie all over the kitchen, that I realized I had a big problem.

What scared me the most was discovering someone had tampered with the device.

Now, I was convinced I had a stalker.

“You need to go to Monsters, PI,” my mother said as she helped me wash spinach smoothie off the walls, floor, and ceiling of my newly restored cliffside home. “A friend suggested it, actually, when I ran into her at the supermarket. Jane. Remember her? You and her daughter were friends long ago.”

Jane . . . Jane . . . I didn’t remember anyone named Jane, but it didn’t matter. I hadn’t stayed in touch with any of my friends from long ago, let alone their mothers.

“Why Monsters, PI?” I asked. “And . . . monsters?”

“You know.” Chuckling, she accidentally swiped green gook across her face while nudging a strand of her graying hair off her cheek. “Orcs. Gargoyles. Minotaurs. Monsters .”

About four years ago, yetis and orcs and ogres, plus all sorts of other creatures, had emerged from caves, below the ground, and from the sea, joining human society. I’d read all about it online and avidly watched the videos on my computer—when I wasn’t making sure I wrote my daily word count for my latest thriller novel. People had gone wild with excitement when the first demons and elves strode through town.

They insisted they came in peace, and who didn’t want to sit down and chat with a phoenix or a gargoyle? Me, for one, because I planned to incorporate creatures like these into my next book.

Treaties were formed, and monsters took jobs, bought property, and started raising families alongside humans. Some even began to date us. Now it was common to see a pixie flying a baby stroller above the sidewalk or run into a merman at the hardware store, Shriek & Nail. Yes, merman could shift their tails into legs, and my, oh, my, weren’t they hot with their teal-colored scales . . .

My fellow Mystic Harbor residents had gone all in on the monster theme, renaming their businesses to make monsters feel welcome, and our per capita monster population was higher than almost anywhere else in the world.

I’d yet to hear about Monsters, PI, however.

I frowned. “Maybe I should stop by and see—”

“Hello?” a woman called out from the front of my house. “Is anyone here?”

“It’s your aunt Beverly,” Mom said with a smile, flicking a green-stained hand my way. “Go greet her and bring her back here. I’ll keep working on this mess.”

“No need, Alice,” my aunt said in a breezy tone, strolling into the kitchen. “My, my, my.” Her nose twisted. “Are you decorating again, Reese?”

The slight edge of a sneer in her voice got my back up, but that was nothing new with Aunt Beverly. She put on a decent front, but I’d always sensed she didn’t like me, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. Although, one time she snapped at me for asking my mother to go to a movie with me. My mother had already made plans with her sister, and man, was my aunt pissed. She’d minced out something about how I didn’t need to monopolize my mother all the time, that she could spend time with her every now and then.

It had been my mother and me since I was little, after she and Dad split. He was an archaeologist, so I hadn’t seen him much while growing up. He was either working on a dig or guest lecturing at one university or another. It was natural that Mom and I had grown closer together.

Too bad it hadn’t brought me and my aunt closer together as well.

“My blender exploded,” I said in a light tone, not rising to her taunt. “We’re cleaning up the mess.”

“Is this why you couldn’t meet me for coffee, Alice?” my aunt asked, her lips pursing as she peered around my kitchen.

“Reese needed help.” Mom started rubbing down the wall directly behind the oven. “And I wanted to do this for her. We can get coffee another time.”

“Always Reese,” my aunt growled, though she spoke low enough only I could hear.

Had jealousy guided her behavior toward me all this time?

“Grab a sponge and start scrubbing, Beverly,” Mom said in a cheery voice, oblivious as always to how her sister was behaving. I could deal with my aunt’s attitude, but it somehow felt worse that my mother never saw it in the same way as me. “I was just telling Reese she should go to Monsters, PI for help with her interesting situation.”

“She needs to see a private investigator for blender gook on the walls?” My aunt’s mouth screwed up, and she didn’t take the sponge Mom held out. “I just got my nails done, and I don’t want to damage the polish.”

“Then have a seat,” Mom said. “Reese made a pot of coffee, and she has one of those fancy machines that’ll give you the same experience you would’ve had at Mystic Mocha.”

She never seemed to notice her older sister’s snide demeanor, which used to bug me when I was a kid. When I brought it up, she told me her sister had reasons for being less touchy-feely and that I should respect that she wasn’t the type to act gushy about any child, not even her only relative other than my mother.

“No thank you,” Aunt Beverly said as I started to open the cupboard for a mug.

“I have pastries from Mythical Muffin,” I said. They were the best place for baked goods in town. Their homemade breads were to die for.

“I’m not hungry,” my aunt said with a sniff, leaning against the counter on my mother’s left. “You owe me lunch, then, Alice.”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Mom’s gaze shot my way. “Want to join us?”

“Thanks, but I have a lot to do today.”

“Odd things have been happening to Reese since she moved back to town.” Mom ran her sponge along the countertop.

“What sort of things?” Did I actually hear a touch of concern in my aunt’s voice? Couldn’t be.

Mom told my aunt about the writing and the seagull attack, plus brought in why green slime covered my kitchen walls. “Someone sabotaged her blender. She’s got a stalker! That’s why I suggested she go to Monsters, PI. I’m sure they’ll figure out who it is and make them stop.”

“You’d be safer back in the city,” Aunt Beverly said. “I can’t imagine why you want to live here in this big, drafty house by yourself. Didn’t you feel more secure in your apartment with all those locks and alarms?”

I shrugged. “I feel safe here. Crime’s basically nonexistent in Mystic Harbor.”

“Then why do we need a detective agency?” Aunt Beverly said. “Surely our local law enforcement can handle our needs.”

“Monsters, PI doesn’t only solve crimes,” Mom said. “You know that. They’re so much more than our local cops. Look at the evidence they found for my friend, Wanda, when she was trying to divorce her dead-beat husband. It was amazing. Without their investigative services, her ex would’ve taken her for everything she had.”

“I suppose.” My aunt studied her nails, and I had to admit, it was a pretty manicure. I loved the bright pink polish. “I still think you’d be safer back in New York.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her. I did that once when I was a teenager, defending Mom over something I could no longer remember, and my aunt ripped me a new one with her words. I was a sputtering kid, doing what I could to defend what I’d said, while she was an adult who knew very well how to manipulate others. She told me I was ruining our family and asked how I would like it if she couldn’t come to the house any longer because she and I had a disagreement.

At her scolding, I burst into tears and rushed from the room.

Mom sat with me later and thanked me for speaking up for her but asked me to leave defense like that to her in the future. She’d hugged me and told me she loved me. But she’d asked me to be the big person and write to my aunt, apologizing for snapping, which I did. Mom suggested I ask my aunt if we could move forward from there.

Aunt Beverly wrote back, telling me we would put this behind us. However, she added, I wasn’t to ever speak to her like that again.

“I won’t keep you two any longer.” My aunt grabbed her purse off the table to leave. “Alice? I’ll see you at Kraken’s Keep at one.”

At my mother’s nod, she left.

I dumped out my bucket and refilled it with clean water and continued scrubbing.

Mom returned to our conversation. “Perhaps you’re experiencing a ghostly haunt. Go to Monsters, PI, and ask one of them to perform an intervention.” Mom shook her fist at the ceiling. “Get out of here, Jolene.”

“Jolene?”

“You know that Dolly Parton tune.” She burst out in song. “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jo-leeene! Don’t take my man away.”

“I have not heard that song.” Though I felt I should. “Did someone named Jolene own this house in the past and did she steal someone else’s man?” And how could that play into making my blender explode spinach smoothie all over my kitchen?

“Jolene Molson died here,” my mom said softly, her wild-eyed gaze spinning. “Some say she was murdered. Others say she did it herself. She fell down the back stairs leading to the beach and they found her later, lying in the sand with a snapped neck. Her front door was wide open. Anyone could’ve come inside. Did someone push her or was it merely an accident? We’ll never know.” Her hand swept toward the back of my house that looked over the bayside of Cape Cod and had been dramatically built on a steep cliff. “This happened long ago. I doubt what happened matters now.” She held up a green-stained finger. “Except if she’s decided to haunt you.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“To make you leave, of course. That’s why they all do it. Maybe she doesn’t like the renovations you’ve done since you moved in, or she has unfinished business and you’re not helping.”

“What kind of unfinished business?” I rinsed my sponge out in my bucket and continued scrubbing. Spinach had stained the pale gray I’d used on the kitchen walls, and I worried it wouldn’t come out. I’d probably have to repaint.

“She might want you to reveal the final clues about her death.”

Pausing, I leaned my hip against the counter and frowned. “How would I do something like that?”

Mom shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Hmm.” I wiped more green gook off the wall.

A ghost? No one believed in such things, did they? But there was no harm in asking around town about a potential haunting. This Victorian was on the historical society’s registry, so I could have a resident ghost that needed her feelings smoothed before we could live together in harmony.

I wasn’t sure how a ghost could make a seagull dive bomb me on the beach, but maybe they’d taken possession of the little creature? As a thriller author, I could come up with all sorts of spooky reasons for why the bird might’ve attacked. Who wouldn’t be inspired by that famous Alfred Hitchcock movie?

As for the rest . . . I would’ve dismissed the shell message in the sand as a childish prank if the same words hadn’t appeared in lipstick on my bathroom mirror—while I was sleeping within fifteen feet of the location.

“I’ll give Monsters, PI a call,” I told Mom.

“Good. Let me know what they say.”

“I’d rather we call in professionals,” my wonderful assistant, Tracy, minced out as she strode beside me from the parking lot on Main Street to the other side, where Monsters, PI was located. Though she’d shown up late, she’d helped me finish in the kitchen and had volunteered to come with me today for my appointment.

“Monsters, PI are professionals,” I said. “My mother told me they’ve solved all sorts of cases already.” I didn’t mention that my mother had also said that each detective at the agency had met their fated mates while on assignment and married them not long after. I wasn’t looking for a relationship right now. Deep in my heart, I longed to be with someone special, but I had a stalker. How could I risk endangering another person?

Someone was out to get me, and until this case was solved, that needed to be my focus.

Tracy huffed but didn’t say anything else as I opened the front door to Monsters, PI and stepped inside.

“If they can’t offer help, we’ll go with that firm you recommended,” I told her softly as the door closed behind us.

With Tracy following, I walked toward the reception desk where a woman about my age of thirty, with dark hair in a blunt cut with bangs sat on the other side of the desk. She looked up with brown eyes that contrasted nicely with her pale skin, then rose as I got closer, smoothing her bright red dress. A broad-shouldered man dressed in a button-up shirt and dark pants and with deep auburn hair stood behind her, his hand resting sweetly on her shoulder.

“I’m Reese Hamilton.” I gave them a smile and gestured to the woman by my side. “This is my assistant, Tracy Davenport.”

“Nice to meet you both,” the woman said, the man murmuring agreement. “I’m Hannah, but I’m only filling in at the reception desk while the regular guy is on vacation. You’ll meet Blake next week when he’s back.” She tilted her head to the man. “This is Reylor, my boyfriend. He works here and is covering for the owner, Katar, while Katar takes paternity leave. His daughter just turned one month old, and she’s a sweetie.”

“Amazing that he took the time off,” I said with a smile. This spoke well of this agency already.

Hannah’s eyes sparkled. “He’s a great guy. Reylor will introduce you to Wolfram Zegrath, who’ll be providing the services you requested.”

“Is Wolfram good at this?” Tracy asked in a haughtier tone than I liked, but this woman was always looking out for me. I’d be lost without her. “Because we will only work with the best.”

“I bet he does a great job,” I told her firmly, not quite willing to chastise her for her attitude in front of others. I’d speak with her later, reminding her that I was in charge, not her. This woman was much too eager to overstep her position.

“Wolfram is an ancient vampire,” Reylor told me, and I admired how civil he sounded.

Really, I should’ve made Tracy wait at my house or asked her politely to let me do the talking. She would’ve grumbled, but she only behaved like this because she wanted the best for me. I suspected I’d find it at Monsters, PI.

“No one,” Reylor added, “and I mean no one, will come close to threatening you while you’re under his care.”

“A vampire?” Tracy gasped, her hand fluttering at her throat.

“That’s kinda cool,” I said. I’d always been fascinated by paranormal things. Maybe he’d let me quiz him about vampire customs and traditions for my upcoming novel. Who better than a real source for something like that?

Hannah sent Wolfram a text, and a tall, muscular man strode down the hall, his black cape swishing around his legs and his red bow tie almost gleaming against his starched white shirt.

Oh, my.

Normally, I wasn’t into the billionaire, night stalker, mafia look, but on Wolfram . . .? Talk about making my girly bits perk up and shout hoorah.

Back off, babe, I told myself.

When he reached the end of the hall, his attention landed on me, and I could swear he blanched, though it was hard to tell since he was rather pale already.

Tracy released another gasp and backed away, her fingers rising to mesh in front of her body in the form of a cross.

He didn’t cringe—or even look her way, for that matter—which sparked my curiosity. If a cross didn’t bother him, what other vampire lore might be incorrect?

“I assume you’re Wolfram?” I strode over to him and held out my hand. “I’m Reese Hamilton, your new client.”

He stared down at my hand for a long time before reaching out to take it in his own.

When he suddenly dropped to his knees, I gaped at him, my lips twitching.

Reylor grinned. Hannah frowned.

Tracy took stuttering breaths while Wolfram leaned over to kiss the back of my hand. He gazed up at me with a look I couldn’t define.

Heat flared deep inside me at his touch. I hadn’t felt attraction for someone for such a long time, I could barely remember when. I’d lived in an apartment in New York City. Food delivery was my best friend. I wrote during the day and made myself work out for exercise each night. I didn’t get out much, let alone date much. At all, actually. It has been so long since my girly parts had seen action, they must assume there was a drought of biblical proportions.

“If you’ll come this way.” Wolfram rose to his feet and gestured to the hallway. “We can begin.”

“Sure thing.” I walked beside him down the hall. “Does anyone call you Wolf for short?”

“It’s Wolfram ,” he intoned in a growly voice that made everything inside me throb. “Wolfram Xavier Vladimir Zegrath, if you would be so kind.”

“Whoa, that’s . . .” A mouthful. “If it’s okay to ask you a personal question, do you drink blood?” A woman needed to know stuff like this if she was going to work closely with someone.

“I’m a vampire , my dear,” he drawled, his intent gaze on my face. “We all drink blood.” He had black eyes. I’d never seen eyes that color before, but I liked them. They were like a deep, dark pool of mystery, and I was a sleuth eager to delve into his secrets.

“Not to be unkind, but you sound a bit stuffy,” I said. While cute, this guy was a walking vampire cliché, from his starched white shirt to his raven-wing hair and eyes. If this was Halloween, he wouldn’t need a costume.

“I’m anything but stuffy,” he said.

“Vladimir, huh?” I tilted my head back to look up at him. “Don’t you find that a bit of a cliché?”

Pausing, he blinked down at me. “Why would I?”

“Vampire. Vladimir?” My low laugh rang out, and I swore he shuddered, which made my girly bits slump. It looked like the long drought would continue. “I mean . . .” I flicked the edge of his cape and leaped up to tap his bow tie. “Cliché.”

“I am not a cliché.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I took his hand and squeezed it.

This time, there was no mistaking it. A shiver ripped through him, transferring itself up my arm.

Wolfram stiffened his spine and smoothed his face. “As for the name Vladimir, I’m older than Dracula. One might even say he copied me .”

“Oh.” My mouth formed a circle. “How old are we talking about here?”

“ Very old.” He waved for me to enter his office, and I sashayed past him, hoping he was staring at my ass.

I wasn’t sure why my heart had perked up for this man alone, but I was eager to find out.

And where had my avoiding dating resolution gone?

It had flown out the window—with a bat. Ha.

“Wait. Wait!” Tracy scurried down the hall after us and scooted inside Wolfram’s office before he could shut the door.

“Please, have a seat,” he said smoothly.

My skin tingled, and he was only stating something general, not . . . telling me to remove my clothing. Bare my neck for his fangs.

My inner wannabe vampiress needed to chill out. This was a business arrangement, not a dating app hook-up.

Wolfram could be married and have a bunch of little vampires running around the house, spontaneously combusting into bats and soaring through the sky alongside he and his vampiress wifey.

That thought cooled me off quickly.

Tracy and I settled in seats while he glided to the other side of his desk and did the same.

He made a steeple with his fingers in front of his chest, and his penetrating gaze met mine. “Please. Do tell me what issue you’re dealing with here in town.”

“I’ve got a stalker.”