Mrs. Morris and the Vampire Read online

  MURDER AT THE HALLOWEEN PARTY

  At midnight, the lights cut off and the ballroom plunged into darkness. The door slammed closed. A woman giggled in fear. Charlene, next to the exit, tried to open it but the knob wouldn’t turn. Her pulse skipped.

  Stephanos pounded on the wooden door.

  Apprehension raced through Charlene as her sight grew accustomed to the shadows. “Is it locked?”

  “Yes.” Stephanos slammed his fist hard against it.

  The door opened from the lobby side and a man in a gorilla costume asked, “What happened?”

  Stephanos flipped on the switch and light bathed the ballroom. Charlene’s gaze went to where Alaric had made his stand—his black-and-purple cloak was flat on the ground. Where was Alaric?

  Serenity, one hand to her lips, raised the cloak to reveal a wooden stake with red on the tip . . .

  Books by Traci Wilton

  MRS. MORRIS AND THE GHOST

  MRS. MORRIS AND THE WITCH

  MRS. MORRIS AND THE GHOST

  OF CHRISTMAS PAST

  MRS. MORRIS AND THE SORCERESS

  MRS. MORRIS AND THE VAMPIRE

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Mrs. Morris and the Vampire

  TRACI WILTON

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  MURDER AT THE HALLOWEEN PARTY

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2021 by Patrice Wilton and Traci Hall

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-3304-7

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-3307-8 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-3307-X (ebook)

  CHAPTER 1

  Hawthorne Hotel

  The Witch Ball

  Rock and roll music shook the brick walls of the Hawthorne Hotel. Charlene Morris left her costumed guests from the B and B boogying on the dance floor to see why Brandy Flint glared from the partially open door separating the ballroom and lobby. Why wasn’t she shaking her groove thing at the biggest party of the year?

  “Boo!” Charlene said into Brandy’s ear. Cool air wafted toward her—a break from the hot crush at her back.

  Brandy, stunning as ever, wore a sexy Little Red Riding Hood number that made Charlene’s Southern belle seem very overdressed. “See them?”

  “Who?”

  “My daughter and her new boyfriend. Alaric.”

  Charlene squinted across the Victorian upholstered furniture and spied Serenity Flint in intimate conversation with a striking man. Ebony hair, dark brows, chiseled jaw, full, sensuous mouth. He had his fingers on her wrist, caressing. Black-and-purple velvet capes cloaked their bodies.

  “Is it wrong that I hate him?” Brandy whispered.

  Charlene hid her smile behind her antebellum-era lace fan. Unlike last Halloween when she’d worn jeans and cat earrings, this year she’d gotten into the Salem Samhain spirit. She was even a judge at the annual witch ball.

  “Hate might be a strong word,” Charlene temporized. She and Brandy stood shoulder to shoulder. They’d become friends in the past year since Charlene had moved to Salem to run her bed-and-breakfast. Flint’s Vineyard supplied her house wine.

  “It’s not just the age difference—he’s at least fifteen years older, though gorgeous. I’ll give him his due.” Brandy, her auburn hair a hint darker than her daughter’s, scrutinized the couple on the couch. “He’s a fraud. A liar. Yet Serenity is blind to it.”

  “A liar?” Charlene tightened her grip on her fan.

  “He claims to be a vampire.”

  Charlene chuckled but stopped when she realized that her friend was serious. “Oh.” She eyed Alaric over her lace. His face, hands, and throat were moon-white. “He’s certainly pale enough.”

  “It’s not the least bit amusing. My daughter is an intelligent witch and should be able to penetrate his illusion.” Brandy sniffed and drank the wicked brew punch created in the hotel bar that smelled like sangria, served in a plastic pumpkin. “I wish she and Dru had never broken up. He really cared for her.” She laughed at herself. “To be fair, I never dated anybody that my mother approved of either.”

  “Jared had my father’s stamp of approval and he eventually won Mom over—but we loved each other from the start.” Charlene turned from Serenity and Alaric to the ballroom of dancers. The clock on the wall read ten, and the king and queen of the witch ball would be announced at midnight. “How long have they been dating?”

  “Alaric moved here from New Orleans two weeks ago and they’ve been inseparable. He told her that he wants her to be at his side for eternity. Can you believe that romantic nonsense? Serenity’s eating it up with a spoon. None of my husbands made me that starry-eyed.” She swirled the frozen-grape eyeballs in her drink. “I know they’re up to something, but Serenity’s being very secretive. It’s not like her.”

  “Are you close?” Charlene folded her fan.

  “Of my three kids, we’re the tightest.” Brandy bopped her black heel to the music. “I caught her going through our family’s books on the craft from the nineteenth century. She hasn’t cared about that since she was a tween and decided to be a modern witch. It’s his doing.”

  “Have you spent time with him?”

  “He refuses invitations to the house.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Why did he move? New Orleans seems like a better fit with the constant nightlife.”

  “Alaric claims Serenity drew him to Salem—she’s his soul mate and they’re destined for each other. He wants to build a select vampire coven here with Serenity as his queen.” Brandy rolled her emerald eyes.

  “I thought witches had covens.”

  “Vampires too, according to the movies. I remain unconvinced.”

  Charlene lived with a ghost for a roommate, so she wasn’t so quick to judge. She couldn�
��t wait to discuss vampires with Jack once she got home. “I’ve seen Dracula —the one with Anthony Hopkins.” She’d been fourteen and it had scared her so much she’d avoided the Interview with the Vampire craze a few years later.

  “Do you see how she stares into his eyes?” Brandy’s nostrils flared and her body tensed. “She’s practically sitting on his lap, for Goddess’s sake.”

  Serenity was very, very close to Alaric. “Aren’t vampires supposed to have alluring powers?” The pair smoldered with sensuality.

  Brandy gestured toward the ballroom, waving her pumpkin. “There are two hundred people at this ball tonight, and a quarter of them are dressed as vampires. He’s as real as they are. Plastic teeth and all.”

  Charlene swayed her hips to the beat and studied the throng of costumed dancers as “Black Magic Woman” by Santana played—the cover band kept to the Halloween theme. “Makes it easier to pick a winner for best costume. What do you think of the Dalmatians over there by the punch bowl?” Chloe and Braydon Chesterfield had flown in from New York yesterday with their elaborate costumes in special luggage.

  Brandy sucked the last of her drink through a green straw. “Cute. Guests of yours?”

  “Yeah . . . this has been on their bucket list.” Charlene watched over all of her guests to ensure they had fun. But how could they not? This was Halloween in Salem.

  “You have to be impartial, Charlene.” Brandy tapped her toes, dancing in place.

  “I will! They went all out, though.” Charlene realized that Brandy was by herself. “Where’s Theo?”

  Shadows crossed Brandy’s face. “We parted ways, romantically. We’re still friends and business partners in the vineyard.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “My choice. Listen, I can’t watch that train wreck on the love seat anymore—if they start taking their clothes off, would you dump some cold punch over them?” Brandy, slender body rocking, moved into the gyrating mass of dancers, pumpkin cup high.

  A tall man with dark hair in a bright-yellow zoot suit immediately swung her toward him. Brandy tossed her head back and reveled in the attention.

  Charlene was tempted to get a drink—a nice glass of red from the bar—and stepped away from the door, when Stephanos Landis, the second of three judges for the ball, joined her.

  “There you are! I had some thoughts . . .” Stephanos trailed off as he noticed Alaric and Serenity on the love seat, exchanging a passionate kiss. He raised his brow. “Tantric energy shines bright around them. Good mojo for a witch. That’s not Dru, is it?”

  “No. Serenity’s new boyfriend. Alaric.” She didn’t mention his claim to be a real vampire or that Brandy heartily disapproved. “Thanks for asking me to judge tonight. I can’t believe all the different costumes! My favorite so far is the eight-foot alien.”

  Stephanos held up his palm. “Don’t tell me. We need to be impartial.”

  “Sorry.” She covered her face with her open fan.

  “Your costume’s lovely. Too bad judges can’t enter, or you’d rack up some votes.”

  “Minnie helped me with the curls”—Charlene patted her elaborate do—“and Avery with the dress.” She never would have managed without her housekeeper or her teenage employee. “Yours is amazing too.”

  Stephanos was decked out in seventeenth-century Pilgrim attire, complete with brass buckles on his shoes. In his seventies, he was very handsome and also a member of the local witch community with Brandy, and Brandy’s mother, Evelyn.

  “My thanks.” Stephanos bowed. “What are your thoughts of the band? This is the first year we’ve had them. Now that you’re part of the Halloween committee, we’ll discuss whether or not to hire them again.”

  She warmed at being included. “So far, they’ve kept to the theme while ensuring everybody’s groovin’ on the dance floor.” The Santana song segued into “Love Potion No. 9” by the Clovers.

  “I agree.” Stephanos snuck a glance at Serenity and Alaric. Serenity snuggled on Alaric’s lap, her arm around his shoulders, nose to nose. He ducked his head to hide a smile. “Lucas does too.”

  “Where is he?” Lucas Evergreen was the third judge and also a witch, though not as powerful as Stephanos or the Flints. He owned a bookstore by the wharf that specialized in witchcraft and local talent.

  “Over by the photo booth.”

  Charlene craned her head across the partiers to where a pirate with a parrot was getting his picture taken at the photo station with two fairies as Lucas untangled their wings. He wore a ninja costume.

  There were as many witches as vampires and the other half was a mix. Some folks had gone to a lot of effort to win one of two five-hundred-dollar prizes and the king and queen of the witch ball title.

  “How can we possibly pick the winners?”

  “It’s our solemn duty to choose the best.” Stephanos winked at her. “You’ll do fine. Now, I’m off to ask Evelyn to dance.”

  “She’s here?” Charlene searched the crowd for Evelyn’s steel-gray hair.

  “The rowan tree,” he said.

  “Oh!” Silver-green leaves swayed from a sturdy brown trunk as she twisted her hips with rhythmic grace. “Who’s she dancing with?”

  “Don’t know, but I’m going to cut in. That woman could write a book on tantric energy exchange.”

  Charlene didn’t want to know more, so she waved at Stephanos with her fan and turned back to Serenity and Alaric.

  In the past two minutes, they’d gone from canoodling to arguing. Serenity tossed Alaric’s pale hand from her knee and said in a raised tone, “For tonight? I told you, Alaric. I don’t share.”

  Charlene took a single step closer to intervene if Serenity needed her help.

  “Darling,” Alaric said smoothly, “it is a coven. We all share. Don’t be a child about this. Elisabeta has been with me a long time.”

  Charlene’s ears perked. Elisabeta?

  “I refuse to come in second!” Serenity stood, her auburn locks flowing down the black velvet cape.

  “Nobody can be second to you, my love.” Alaric tugged her down to sit on his knee and stared into her eyes. “My queen. Trust me.”

  “I don’t want to. No.”

  Charlene could feel his magnetism as he poured it over Serenity—an invisible, yet powerful force. The young woman wilted beneath his kiss and he tucked her close to his body.

  Was he mesmerizing her in some fashion? She bristled and agreed with Brandy that this man was no good.

  Charlene left her post by the door and sashayed (thanks to the hooped skirt) over to the couple on the sofa, saying brightly, “Serenity! How are you?”

  Serenity’s green eyes focused on Charlene and she smiled in recognition. They’d met a few times at the winery.

  “Hi, Charlene. You could be Scarlett O’Hara.”

  “Why fiddle-dee-dee—that was the idea, but don’t look too closely.” Charlene laughed and coyly fluttered her fan. “Lace and a glue gun cover a lot of mistakes.”

  Serenity’s smile widened. “I won’t tell. Have you met Alaric? He’s just moved from New Orleans.”

  Alaric schooled his features as he realized Charlene had disrupted his enchanted hold on Serenity. “Hello.” He offered his hand and his fingers were cold as ice. She dredged up what she remembered of vampires from watching Dracula. Cool skin—check. Pale, yep. Did he drink blood? Yuck. There were no musty castles here in Salem, so maybe he wouldn’t stay.

  She released his grip before he noticed her shudder of distaste. “This is my first witch ball too. I moved from Chicago to operate a B and B.” Chuckling, she said, “I sure don’t miss the heavy snow.”

  His full mouth firmed—no smile, no warmth in his gaze. His black velvet cloak with deep purple trim went perfectly over his fitted black slacks and a long-sleeved black shirt. Black leather boots encased his feet. “The old city has its charms, but I was ready for somewhere new.”

  She understood and wondered what reason he had for needing a chan
ge. She’d lost her husband in a terrible accident and wanted a fresh start away from all their memories. Had he lost someone too?

  Alaric clasped Serenity’s thigh in a possessive action. Her form-fitting silk dress had a plunging décolletage and a gem hung by a gold chain between her breasts.

  “What a gorgeous piece.” Charlene pointed to the necklace. The dark-blue stone was round with a white center, framed in gold. “What is it?”

  Serenity lifted the pendant. “A star sapphire.” She glanced at Alaric shyly. “A family heirloom. I love it.”

  Charlene couldn’t even begin to imagine what such a gem might cost. And Alaric had only known Serenity two weeks? The hair on her arms rose in alarm.

  Serenity tilted her head toward Alaric, as if seeking his approval.

  Touching Serenity’s shoulder, Charlene drew her attention with a low laugh. “I saw your grandmother’s tree costume—she can really shake her leaves!”

  Serenity rose in a swift motion. “Grandma’s dancing? Let’s go, Alaric. Less than two hours until midnight and your surprise.” She moved toward the ballroom.

  Alaric winced and shot Charlene a glare. “Love, that was for your ears alone.”

  “Ooops!” Serenity giggled like the twenty-five-year-old young lady she was and brushed her plum-and-black cape off her slender body. “I want to dance. Come on.”

  She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Charlene with Alaric. He had no choice but to get up and follow his “soul mate” to the dance floor. This close, Charlene could see that his skin was porcelain smooth. No makeup.

  “Pardon me,” he said, passing Charlene.

  “Have fun. And good luck in the costume contest. Vampire suits you.”