Always the Vampire

I’d even begun flying to work occasionally, but only when I had the late tour at nine thirty, after dark when I wouldn’t spook anyone. And, okay, it wasn’t real vampire flying as much as it was puddle hopping. I’d take to the air long enough to clear a few houses at a time, using landmarks such as the numerous church spires and steeples and domes to track my location. Sooner or later, though, I had to look down to spot my landing, and the vertigo was murder. Heights are not my friend.

Since I didn’t need more stress tonight, I’d drive. That lifted my spirits, and my mood brightened even more when I stepped into my new silvery Cinderella dress. It didn’t have frou-frou trims and tucks, or a huge skirt to get in the way, but it was magical anyway. Shirley Thomas, costume genius for the Flagler College theater department, had created new tour-guide togs for me when my old ones had been shot up. I’d also hired Shirley to design and make Maggie’s Victorian wedding gown, and Shirley had later surprised me with this fairy tale inspired creation.

I felt like a Disney character as I drove my beloved aqua SSR downtown. Not that bluebirds and bunnies cavorted around my skirts. Not a single industrious dwarf fell into step with me as I hustled to the waterwheel near the Mill Top Tavern where I met my tour groups. Still, I felt happier than I had all day, more so when I caught sight of the waiting tourists.

Along with half-a-dozen couples and a smattering of teens, I spotted Millie Hayward and two of her Jag Queens friends chatting with three dapper older men.

“Millie,” I greeted as she enfolded me in a Shalimar-scented hug. “You and the Jag Queens looked great on TV this weekend!”

“You saw the Jacksonville game, then?” Grace Warner beamed. “I thought we looked pretty sharp myself, but my TiVo didn’t record.”

“Mine did,” Kay Sims chimed in. “We’re having a watch party tomorrow night, if you want to come, Cesca.”

I grinned, imagining the clothing and hair critique that would ensue. “I’d love to, but that’s my bridge night.”

“Maybelle Banks is back from her cruise?” Millie asked.

I nodded. “She showed us her pictures of Greece last week.”

I didn’t know how Millie and Maybelle had met, but Maybelle is sixty-something, wields a dry, sharp wit, and dabbles in astrology. She and Millie must make a pair.

So did Millie and—what was her swain’s name? I’d seen him once a few weeks ago but not met him.

When he cleared his throat, Millie took the hint and introduced the gentlemen.

“Cesca, this is Dan Kelley.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Cesca.” Dan’s full head of white hair and a tan I pegged as golf course golden made his eyes a startling shade of green.

“And these gentlemen”—Millie gestured toward two more athletic types—“are Hal Lipkin and Joel Granger.”

We murmured greetings while Millie continued, “The guys couldn’t get tickets to the Jaguar game, so we’re treating them to the ghost tour tonight.”

“Then I’ll do my best to be extra entertaining,” I vowed.

Dan took Millie’s hand, Hal smiled at Grace, and Joel lightly touched Kay’s back. Ah, mature romance!

Though at my age, I should talk about mature. Even Saber isn’t quite the young stud I’d assumed he was when I met him.

As I turned away to take ticket stubs, I noticed another elderly couple staring in a size-me-up way. Wearing colorful, tourist-casual slacks, shirts, and walking shoes, they looked older than Millie, perhaps in their eighties. I worried for a moment about them traversing the uneven pavement along our route, but the man nimbly dodged a teenaged boy who nearly backed into him. Okay, the man seemed surprisingly spry. Still, I’d keep an eye out. Subtle bursts of vampire speed had helped me keep more than one tourist from taking a tumble.

I paused to speak with Carol and Nancy when I took their tickets, two special ladies who’d become known around town simply as “the sisters.” They’d only been in St. Augustine a few years, but were enthusiastic community volunteers and hard-core Pittsburgh Steelers fans. Good thing they weren’t wearing Steelers gear or Millie and the Jag Queen ladies might’ve done some trash talking.

Grinning at that image, I went to the tour substation, a wooden structure with a cabinet behind padlocked doors. I keyed the lock open, stashed the tickets stubs in a manila envelope, and grabbed my battery-operated lantern. The lantern doesn’t provide much light, but it’s a beacon of sorts for people to follow and part of the ghostly ambiance. The cabinet relocked, I waved my tour group closer.

“Good evening, and welcome to Old Coast Ghost Walk. I’m Cesca Marinelli, your guide. St. Augustine is regarded as one of the most haunted cities in America, and tonight we’ll visit the ghosts as I tell you what we know of their history.

“Feel free to take photos and ask questions when you like, but please watch out for uneven ground as we tour.”