Chapter 3
Two nights later, Don Orlando arrived at Horny Devils with his duffel bag. By the time his eyes adjusted to the flashing lights of the nightclub, he was surrounded by a crowd of scantily clad lady Vamps who screeched to be heard over the loud music.
"Oh, Don Orlando! I just adore your show! And your cape!"
"Why are you wearing a shirt?"
"Can I have your autograph?"
A dozen cocktail napkins were thrust at his face. He reached into his inner coat pocket for a pen while he scanned the renovated warehouse for Maggie.
"Me first!" A napkin grazed his nose. A blond Vamp dressed like a cheerleader stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
He blinked. There was something disconcerting about a cheerleader with fangs.
She curled a hand around his arm, her long fingernails digging in like grappling hooks. "Do you need a girlfriend?"
"No, thank you." He wished he could publicly claim Maggie as his girlfriend, but she'd probably throw another shoe at his head. Still, she had to care about him, right? She'd arranged this trip to find out who he was. Where was she?
"Enough, ladies!" A striking woman with purple hair shouted over the loud music. "You don't want to miss our new dancer."
With a triumphant yell, the cheerleader released him and skipped toward the stage. The other women joined her, bouncing to the rhythm of a pounding drum. The stage curtains were whisked back to reveal a man wearing an Indian headdress, war paint, and little else. The women screamed.
Don Orlando breathed deeply. Thank God he was no longer the center of attention. He smiled at the purple-haired woman. "Are you one of Maggie's friends? I'm supposed to meet her here."
"She's in the office, waiting for you." The woman assessed him with narrowed eyes. "So, you're the famous Don Orlando."
"How do you do?" He extended a hand.
She took it and yanked him toward her so suddenly, the strap of the duffel bag slid off his shoulder. "My name is Vanda, and if you hurt Maggie, I'm coming after you."
"I would never hurt her." Not intentionally, though he was worried that she could find the truth about him disappointing. He shoved his duffel bag back onto his shoulder.
"Let me in!" A young voice bellowed at the front door.
"Get lost," the bouncer yelled. "You're underage."
"I'm 479 years old, ye moron."
"Hugo!" Vanda shouted. "He's okay. Let him in."
The huge guard stepped back, grumbling. "Well, he looks like he's twelve."
"Do not," the youthful-looking vampire hissed as he strode into the club.
No, he didn't. Don Orlando figured he looked more like fifteen. Black curly hair framed his smooth face, and a red plaid kilt swished about his knees as he walked toward them. "You must be Ian MacPhie."
"Aye, and ye must be Don Orlando." He shook hands, then turned to Vanda. "Ye're looking as lovely as ever." He took her hand and attempted to kiss it.
With a laugh, she pulled her hand away and ruffled his hair. "Come on. Maggie's waiting." She strode to the office.
"Thanks for helping with the investigation." Don Orlando noted the Scotsman's eyes were riveted on Vanda's swaying hips.
"I like to stay busy. It keeps my mind off… things." Ian glanced at the wiggling women in front of the stage.
Don Orlando suspected those "things" were women. It had to be hard to be stuck for all eternity with the raging hormones of a fifteen-year-old boy.
"I talked to the New Orleans coven master last night. He should be calling shortly. And I have the phone numbers of every coven master in America." Ian patted the leather pouch that hung from his waist. "We'll be able to teleport to any major city."
"That's good." Especially since Don Orlando had no idea where he was originally from.
Vanda stopped at a door with the words office painted on front. "Good luck finding out who you are." She turned to Ian. "You behave yourself in New Orleans, sweetie."
He gave her an exasperated look. "I'm older than you."
She laughed. "I know, but you look so sweet." She patted his cheek, then walked away.
Ian groaned, then pushed open the door.
"Don Orlando, Ian!" Maggie grinned as they entered the room. She was standing by the desk, holding the phone. "Colbert GrandPied just called. They're awake in New Orleans."
"Good. I'll go first." Ian stepped close to Maggie and leaned toward the phone. "Colbert, keep talking. I'm on my way."
Ian's form wavered, then vanished. Don Orlando understood the maneuver in theory. A Vamp could teleport long distances by using someone's voice as a beacon. Still, he had never executed the feat on his own before. He'd been half-starved and confused when Corky had teleported him to New York years earlier.
"Are you ready?" Maggie asked.
He hovered near the phone, listening to Colbert's French-accented voice. A wave of dread washed over him. What was he doing, going back to New Orleans? It was the home of his worst nightmare, where he'd lost his memory and mortality.
"Maggie," he whispered, "this is difficult."
Her pretty blue eyes widened with concern. "Don't worry." She lay the receiver down and punched on the speaker phone. Colbert's deep voice filled the room. Having run out of things to say, he was now singing "Au Claire de la Lune."
Maggie slipped a tote bag onto her shoulder, then took hold of Don Orlando's hands. "I'll go with you. Every step of the way." She smiled. "You'll be sick of me before this is over."
"No, never." He tightened his grip on her hands and focused on Colbert's melodic voice. "I don't deserve you, Maggie."
"You deserve happiness." Her body slowly disappeared.
Happiness is being with you was his last thought before everything went black. He could still feel her presence and hear Colbert's voice becoming closer and louder. The thud of his feet on solid ground signaled his arrival. Ian was there, standing next to Colbert. Maggie's image shimmered, then sharpened into her real body, her hands still clasped in his own.
"Bonsoir, mon ami," Colbert nodded at him, then studied Maggie. "Enchante, ma petite. And you are?"
Mine. A rush of Possessiveness swept over Don Orlando. He knew Colbert was famous for seducing beautiful women, so he sidled close to Maggie and draped an arm around her shoulder.
Smiling, she glanced at him, then turned to Colbert. "I'm Maggie O'Brian. Thank you for letting us stay with your coven."
"My pleasure, cherie." Colbert bowed gracefully. "Ian tells me you have come to discover Don Orlando's true identity."
"Yes." Don Orlando dropped his duffel bag on the floor as he glanced around. They appeared to be in an abandoned warehouse. Empty, broken crates littered the floor. The smell of coffee competed with the odors of mold and dust. This was far from the elegant wine cellar he remembered. "You moved?"
"Oui." Colbert sighed. "Our beloved wine cellar was flooded with the last hurricane. So much was ruined—many of our valuable antiques and all our lovely coffins."
"I'm so sorry," Maggie murmured.
"I was fortunate to find this old coffee warehouse." Colbert pointed at the far walls. "You can still see the watermark where the ground floor flooded, but we discovered the second floor was safe and dry. More importantly, it has no windows and no other exits. The government gave us a few cots and blankets, but it is not the same as the old days."
"Wait a minute," Don Orlando interrupted. "You received government aid?"
Colbert shrugged. "I filled out the proper paperwork." He gestured toward the second floor. A small balcony surrounded the closed door. "That is where we hide during the day."
Ian pointed at the heap of broken wood beneath the balcony. "Was that the staircase? Ye tore it down?"
"Oui. So no mortal can disturb us during our death-sleep."
Ian nodded. "A good plan. Now, if you doona mind, I'd like to get started with the investigation."
"But of course." Colbert smiled slightly at Don Orlando. "I must confess, I have long been curious about the identity of our Bootsie."
"Bootsie?" Maggie asked.
Don Orlando winced. This was going to be embarrassing.
"We didn't know what to call him," Colbert explained. "So we named him after the pair of boots he was wearing."
"What kind of boots?" Ian asked.
"Alligator, I believe."
"No, I mean what kind," Ian pressed. "Were they work boots, hiking boots—"
"Ah." Colbert nodded. "They were cowboy boots."
Don Orlando blinked. "I—I'm a cowboy?"
"You don't remember your boots?" Maggie asked.
He gritted his teeth. "No, if you recall, I have amnesia."
She huffed. "I know, but you must have been wearing them when you were transformed, after you already had amnesia."
"I see your point, cherie," Colbert conceded. "But Scarlett and Tootsie didn't like the way Bootsie was dressed, so they changed his clothes before transforming him. He was unconscious at the time, so it is no wonder he cannot remember."
"Scarlett and Tootsie?" Maggie turned to Don Orlando with an irritated look. "Two women transformed you?"
Don Orlando groaned. "It's a long story."
"Wait," Ian interrupted. "Do ye still have his old clothes?"
Colbert rubbed his dimpled chin. "Perhaps. We grabbed as much as we could when we evacuated. I'll have to ask Giselle."
"Do that," Ian ordered. "We might discover some clues from his clothes. And I need to interview Scarlett and Tootsie."
"Must you?" Don Orlando grumbled.
"But of course." Colbert smiled at Don Orlando. "They've been eagerly awaiting your arrival. They're practically swooning from all the excitement."
"They're always about to swoon," Don Orlando growled.
Colbert laughed. "I'll fetch them and find Giselle. A bientôt, mes amis." He levitated to the second-floor balcony, then opened the door. "Scarlett, Tootsie, he's here!"
High-pitched squeals responded.
Maggie shot Don Orlando an annoyed look. "You didn't tell me you had girlfriends here."
He considered climbing into one of the empty crates.
"He's here! Our little Bootsie is back!" A slim male Vamp ran onto the balcony. His eyes lit up when he spotted Don Orlando, and his scarlet-tinted lips broke into a wide grin.
Don Orlando grimaced. The hurricane hadn't destroyed Scarlett's clothes. He was wearing his usual white leather miniskirt and black fishnet stockings. His red satin bustier matched the red feather boa around his neck. His large feet were crammed into red patent leather pumps.
"Sweet Mary and Joseph," Maggie whispered. Her tote bag fell to the floor.
"Damn," Ian muttered, stepping back.
"Woo-hoo, Bootikins!" The Vamp waved at Don Orlando with the end of his boa. He glanced back. "Tootsie, stop worrying over your lipstick. You're keeping Bootsie waiting."
"I'm coming!" A deep male voice boomed from the upstairs room.
"Don't rush yourselves on my account," Don Orlando yelled.
Maggie turned to him, grinning. "Tootsie and Bootsie? You must have made a lovely couple."
"Don't go there." Don Orlando muttered. "Believe me, I didn't."
"Bootikins!" A male Vamp, wearing a red velvet costume, leaped onto the balcony. White fur trimmed the short skirt, neckline, and sleeves. A big white pompom hung from his red Santa hat, and his elf shoes were adorned on the tips with jingle bells. "Bootsie, you look gorgeous." He struck a pose. "Don't you love my new outfit? I look just like a Rockette."
"Yeah, right," Don Orlando grumbled.
Scarlett and Tootsie floated down to the first floor, the boa fluttering and bells jingling. They landed gracefully, then rushed toward Don Orlando. He stood still as they each embraced him and kissed his cheeks.
"What?" Scarlett whimpered. "No hugs or kisses for us?"
Don Orlando patted his shoulder. "It's good to see you again."
Tootsie dabbed at his eyes with a lacy hanky he'd pulled from his sleeve. "Our little boy has come home. I'm going to swoon, I just know it."
"There, there." Scarlett gave Tootsie a stern look. "We mustn't upset Bootikins now that he's home." He turned to Don Orlando with a trembling smile. "We're so proud of you! Our little Bootsie, a famous TV star."
Tootsie sniffled. "I just love your cape."
"Oh, me too!" Scarlett stepped close. "But we wanted to talk to you about that. Must you always wear black, sweetie? I think scarlet or plum silk would be so smashing."
"Excuse me." Ian raised a hand to get their attention. "We need to get down to business. Now, is it true that ye're the ones who transformed Don Orlando?"
"Oh, my!" Tootsie eyed Ian. "Your young friend with the sexy kilt and adorable accent is so serious and… aggressive." He shuddered. "I don't know whether to be appalled or excited."
Don Orlando cleared his throat. "Allow me to introduce my friends from New York. This is Ian MacPhie and Maggie O'Brian."
"Oh, yes!" Scarlett grabbed Maggie's hand and shook it. "You're Dr. Jessica from As the Vampire Turns. We think it's marvelous how you're going to South America to help those poor conjoined twins."
"But I—" Maggie started.
"I start crying every time I think about it." Tootsie wiped his eyes. "Tell me, was the surgery a success?"
Maggie gave Don Orlando a confused look. "Ah, yes, the twins are doing great."
"Oh, God bless them!" Scarlett pressed a hand to his flat chest.
"I'm so happy, I'm going to swoon from joy," Tootsie added.
"Could we get back to business?" Ian asked. "No swooning until I can interview you."
"Oh, he's so forceful." Tootsie shivered.
"You're such a lovely girl." Scarlett touched Maggie's chin-length black hair. "You know, not many of us can look good in a bob. But if I may suggest, some blue highlights would be so lovely for you. Don't you think so, Tootsie?"
"Yes, it would bring out the blue of her eyes."
"Business!" Ian shouted. "Before the sun rises, please."
"Oh, you're an animal," Tootsie purred as he slinked over to Ian. "Like a fierce young Scottish wildcat."
"Touch me and I'll break yer arm," Ian growled, folding his arms across his chest. "Now, we're here to discover the true identity of… Bootikins." His mouth twitched.
Maggie giggled.
Don Orlando glared at them both.
"Which one of ye found Bootsie first?" Ian asked.
"That would be me," Scarlett confessed. "Tootsie and I were taking our nightly stroll around Jackson Square. I'd already had some bottled blood for dinner, so I wasn't very hungry. But then I saw sweet little Bootsie sitting on the steps of the cathedral. He. looked so sad and beautiful with his wavy black hair and big golden brown eyes, I couldn't help myself. I thought, perhaps, a little nibble wouldn't hurt—"
"You bit him?" Maggie looked appalled.
"Well… yes." Scarlett blushed a becoming shade of scarlet. "But Tootsie bit him, too."
Tootsie gave his companion a recriminating look. "Well, I couldn't let you have all the fun. Besides, he looked so marvelously tragic, like a dying Camille. How could we resist?"
Scarlett sighed. "I'm afraid we got a little carried away."
"A little?" Don Orlando glared at them. "You put me in a coma."
"But only because we liked you!" Tootsie exclaimed.
"We didn't do it right away." Scarlett blew red feathers away from his mouth. "You were fine when we tried to erase your memory. That's when we discovered you had no memory at all."
"And that's when Scarlett came up with the plan," Tootsie added.
"My plan?" Scarlett huffed. "You went along with it."
"What plan?" Ian demanded.
Tootsie hung his head. "I know we shouldn't have—"
"No, you shouldn't have," Don Orlando growled.
Scarlett's red lips trembled. "We said we were sorry."
Tootsie dabbed at his eyes with his hanky. "We begged you to forgive us, but you left for New York with that horrid woman and wouldn't forgive us. You wouldn't even talk to us."
"Oh, how sad." Maggie patted Tootsie's shoulder. "I'm sure he's forgiven you." She gave Don Orlando a reproachful look. "You have, haven't you?"
"Maggie, they murdered me!"
She shrugged. "So, you were having a bad day."
"What?"
"I don't mean to sound cold." She squeezed his arm. "But we were all murdered at some point. It's the nature of our existence. If you want to be happy, you need to get over it and forgive them. You could have a wonderful future ahead of you."
Tootsie nodded. "You should listen to her. She's a very wise doctor."
"Just look at how she saved those twins in South America," Scarlett added with a sniff.
Don Orlando sighed. Tootsie and Scarlett kept confusing Maggie with the doctor she played on TV, but they were right. In her own way, Maggie was healing him. And she was right. An eternity of bitterness would make him miserable.
He glanced at Tootsie and Scarlett. They were both sniffling, their bottom lips trembling, and their eyes watery with regret. "All right, I forgive you. In fact, I'm downright delighted to be a vampire."
"Really?" Scarlett wiped a tear from his rouged cheek.
"Yes." Don Orlando turned to Maggie and clasped her hands in his. "If I hadn't become a vampire, I would have never met this beautiful, courageous, and wise woman. Maggie, you were definitely worth dying for."
Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. When he tugged her forward, she willingly came into his arms. He held her tight and kissed the top of her head. So what if he had no memories? He could build an eternity of memories with Maggie.
"Oh, my!" Scarlett fanned himself. "This is so romantic."
"Oh, yes!" Tootsie pressed a hand to his forehead. "I'm going to swoon."
"No ye're not," Ian ordered. "Ye never told us about the plan."
"Oh, you're so demanding." Tootsie shuddered. "You're like a Scottish terrier with a bone."
"Mmm, a very large bone." Scarlett smiled slyly as he regarded Ian's kilt.
"The plan?" Ian growled.
"Well, there's no need to get all huffy." Tootsie gave him an injured look. "We simply wanted to make Bootsie like us."
"Like a vampire?" Ian asked.
"No." Don Orlando glared at his makers. "They wanted to make me just like them. They took my comatose body back to the wine cellar and put me in a damned dress."
Tootsie scoffed. "You needn't growl at us. You said you've forgiven us."
"And it was a very nice dress," Scarlett added. "An ivory silk gown with extensive beadwork on the bodice."
"It was a freaking dress," Don Orlando growled. "I woke up the next night to find out I was undead and wearing a dress!"
Maggie covered her mouth to hide a smile.
"It wasn't funny," Don Orlando grumbled.
"I'm sure you looked very nice." Maggie wrapped her arms around his middle, and he forgot all about being angry.
"So." Ian gave the two male Vamps a disapproving frown. "Yer plan was to take a mortal with no memory, transform him, and convince him that he was a gay transvestite?"
Tootsie huffed. "You needn't make us sound so Machiavellian. We gave him our best gown."
"A Vera Wang," Scarlett added. "And the big brute ripped it when he tore it off."
Ian arched an eyebrow at Don Orlando. "I take it their little experiment dinna work?"
"No. Even without a memory, I knew I was straight."
Ian's gaze lifted to the balcony and his mouth fell open. Don Orlando wasn't surprised. Giselle usually had that effect on men. She was standing on the balcony, dressed in a shimmering white gown, her white-blond hair cascading down her back. In her arms was a bundle of clothes.
"Bonsoir." She smiled as she floated down to the ground floor. "I have located Bootsie's old clothes." She sauntered past them to a small seating area.
Two Louis XVI chairs and a gold satin settee surrounded a scarred coffee table. Giselle dumped the clothes on the table, then perched on one of the chairs. Scarlett and Tootsie rushed over and sat together on the settee. Maggie and Ian followed them. Don Orlando gathered his duffel bag and Maggie's tote bag and set them on the floor next to the vacant chair.
"Thank ye for finding the clothes." Ian smiled and extended a hand to Giselle. "I'm Ian MacPhie from New York."
"Enchantee." She removed her hand from his grip before he could kiss it.
With a sigh, Ian turned to examine the clothes on the table.
Scarlett lifted a plaid Western shirt between his thumb and forefinger and shuddered. "How horrid."
Don Orlando picked up the boots. They were worn and scruffy. Had he really been a cowboy?
"This is interesting," Ian removed a belt from the pile and studied the buckle.
"It's huge." Maggie moved closer to Ian to get a better look. "What's that embossed on front? A wild horse?"
"A bronco." Don Orlando blinked when he realized the word had escaped without forethought. He must really be a cowboy.
Ian turned the buckle over. "There's an inscription. FORT WORTH LIVESTOCK SHOW AND RODEO 1999. This could be useful." He turned to Giselle. "Is there a computer here I can use?"
"Yes, on the second floor." She rose. "I'll take you."
"Thank you." Ian followed Giselle to the balcony, then they levitated to the second floor. Scarlett and Tootsie dashed over at vampire speed to get a glimpse under Ian's kilt.
Don Orlando cleared his throat. They gave him sheepish looks.
Ian glanced down from the balcony. "Ye four should keep working. The clues are there, if ye think hard enough." He followed Giselle into the upstairs room and shut the door.
"What clues?" Tootsie's shoes jingled as he and Scarlett trudged back to the settee.
"I've always wondered how I got amnesia." Don Orlando sat in one of the antique chairs.
"His mind was a complete blank when you found him?" Maggie asked Tootsie and Scarlett. They nodded.
"Then the amnesia must have happened that night," Don Orlando concluded.
"Exactly," Maggie agreed. "It must have just happened or you would have had a little memory. And it must have happened very close to where you were found."
"Somewhere in the French Quarter?" Tootsie offered.
Maggie turned to the male Vamps on the settee. "Did Don Orlando have a head injury of any kind?"
"No, he was perfect." Scarlett grimaced. "I always suspected it had something to do with"—he lowered his voice to an ominous whisper—"the Dark Arts."
Tootsie gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. "Don't make me swoon."
Don Orlando sat back as a feeling of dread seeped into his pores.
"You mean magic?" Maggie asked. "Or witches?"
Scarlett and Tootsie exchanged a worried look and shuddered.
"They mean voodoo," Don Orlando whispered.
"Is that real?" Maggie asked.
"It's real if you believe in it," Tootsie whispered.
Maggie glanced at Don Orlando. "Do you believe in it?"
"I don't know. I can't remember."
"Well." Maggie lifted her chin. "I'm not afraid. And it stands to reason that if the amnesia is the result of some kind of spell, then there must be another spell that can undo it. We should locate the local practitioner and see what he can do."
Scarlett's mouth fell open. "You're not getting me to see a voodoo priestess."
Maggie gave him a stern look. "Not even for Bootsie?"
Tootsie grabbed Scarlett's hand and held tight. "We can take you to the French Quarter where the local shops are, but we don't want to go inside."
"Very well." Maggie stood. "Let's go."
Don Orlando smiled. What a fierce little fighter she was. He couldn't imagine living through eternity or even a single night without her. His smile faded as he realized the full impact of his feelings. He was in love with Maggie O'Brian.
She gave him a worried look. "Are you all right?"
"Never been better." He took her hand. "Let's go."