Page 4 of Grave Humor

All in all, I didn’t care about either corpse. Unless I put my throat to the vampire’s mouth, he couldn’t hurt me. As for John Doe, I wasn’t sure what I thought about him.

While I wanted to curse over my foul luck, I kept smiling, grabbed my purse and coat, and descended into the basement. I made it all of two steps before the lock clicked behind me.

“Asshole,” I muttered, shaking my head and reaching for switches. I flipped three of the five, bathing the stairwell and landing below in a yellowed light. The stench of embalming fluid burned my nose, and I turned on the ventilation fans so I wouldn’t suffocate before the end of the viewing.

When I found out who had left the basement a reeking hell hole, there’d be a third body in the freezer. In prison, I could study and pretend I had a future, and I’d do so on the government’s dime until they kicked me out and made me finish my term doing community service. Curling my lip in a snarl, I stomped down the steps and aimed for the disposal bin meant for the latex gloves. I caught it with my foot and launched the damned thing through the open doorway.

It crashed onto the metal table bolted to the preparation room floor.

“What’s the fucking point of having a three-inch thick containment door if it’s open all the time? I’m surrounded by brain-dead idiots.”

“Yes, you are,” a husky, deep voice replied. “I was wondering who they’d sacrifice to me first. I knew the scarecrow would hide, but I thought he’d betray the whiner first. How disappointing.”

A flash of red in the corner of my eye warned me something came, but before I could do more than flinch, a muscular forearm slammed against my throat while a tall, black, and crimson clad body pinned me to the stairwell wall. A hand covered my mouth.

I sucked in a breath, wheezing from the pressure against my throat.

“I don’t like when people scream. Remain quiet, and you might live longer.”

Unless the vampire had reattached his arms and legs, added at least six inches, and had stolen a black and red outfit better suiting the Victorian era, John Doe had gotten tired of his eternal rest, gotten up, and explored the basement. Unless someone upstairs heard me, an impossibility through the locked door above, I was up a creek without a paddle or a boat.

Oh, well. Shit happened. As screaming or protesting, or even struggling, would do me no good, I settled for a nod.

Then again, if a prolonged life turned into a losing proposition, I’d scream myself hoarse to speed up the inevitable.

“Very good. What’s your name, little lady?” My captor eased the pressure on my throat and lowered his hand from my mouth.

Well, then. If he wanted to be cordial, I could work with that. “I’m Anwen.”

“Of which clan? You smell of the Isles.” He paused, as though lost in thought. “I don’t know what they call the Isles in this era. No matter. I’ve not had a clanswoman in many years. Clanswomen are always entertaining.”

“I don’t have a clan. I’m a Nash,” I admitted. “My father’s American, and my mother’s mother is a Brit. I’m a mutt, so I’m probably not interesting or entertaining. Sorry.”

“How curious. Right now, most begin begging for their lives. Why don’t you? I mean, I do enjoy skipping that rather tedious phase of our introduction. I’ve found my accommodations rather offensive, though that’s no fault of yours.”

I rolled my eyes at that. Seriously? What sort of weirdo asked questions like his? I suspected he redefined old, and the brief glimpses I’d caught of him implied he would be easy on the eyes. I had assumed he’d count as some sort of nasty undead predator if he got up, but he felt much warmer than any corpse I’d dealt with. “Do you want the pretty answer or the truth?”

John Doe shifted his hold on me, pulling me against him rather than keeping me trapped to the wall. Warm breath tickled my cheek. “Tell me both, but start with the truth.”

“Okay. Right now, you’d probably be doing me a favor, and if you decide to draw it out, I plan on screaming so you kill me faster.”

“And your pretty answer?”

“It turns out that is also my pretty answer.” While he no longer strangled me, he kept me pinned against him, which beat the wall but made me question my sanity. Were all men warm? Thanks to Sunset’s dwindled population and severe shortage of decent single guys, I hadn’t met any men I’d wanted to cuddle up with.

Apparently, bad boys appealed to me. I needed to help my mother swallow her own damned teeth for having influenced me. Bad boy appeal must have been the reason why my mother had married my father, and that relationship consistently proved to be a train wreck destined for hell.

“How interesting.”

“What sort of undead are you? You’re rather warm. The other stiffs definitely aren’t warm.”

John Doe laughed long and loud. “My dear lady, whoever said I was dead? I assure you, I’m as alive as you. I’m no undead, although I’ve noticed you’re keeping one in your freezer. How uncouth.”

“He’s not my undead. I’m just the receptionist who is often relegated to serve as the maid. Heaven forbid the chauvinistic male pigs upstairs be helped by a mere girl. Look, if you’re not going to kill and eat me, can I get to work? If this sty isn’t spotless by the time the viewing is done, the director will probably fire me. At that point, you may as well kill me.”

“Are you a virgin, Miss Nash?”

What the hell? “Excuse me? What does my virginity have to do with anything? How about you? Are you a virgin? Your sex life has been on ice for at least fifty years, so you may as well be. I bet you’re shriveled from disuse. Typical man. You throw your weight around, act like you’re all high and mighty, and I bet when you think no one is looking, you waste all your money on hookers and blow since you’re too cheap to go all the way.”