“Who the hell are you?” Gorman demanded.
“I am Jo-Jo the Jester, champion of the fair Francesca, Most Royal Highness of the House of King Normand.”
“You’re one of the freakin’ new vampires in town?”
Jo-Jo waved the sword. “Step away from the princess before I run you through.”
“Uh, Jo-Jo,” I said, having eased from Gorman and Kevin on my own. “That’s a rubber sword.”
He blinked, twirled the sword in a blur of speed, and tapped the tip on the bricked surface of the plaza.
“Zounds! Never mind, my princess. I shall fight with my bare hands if necessary.”
Gorman’s perpetual scowl contorted. The corners of his mouth twisted upward, and he wheezed a sound I realized was laughter. Really creepy laughter.
“Damn, this’ll get those pansies in the Covenant seein’ things my way again.”
“Pansies?” I said. “What are you talking about?”
Gorman gave me shifty eyes. “I kept warnin’ ’em about you. Told ’em it was a matter a time before they’d regret decidin’ to leave you alone.”
I blinked. “Do you mean that all this time the rest of your Covenant buddies haven’t been out to get me?”
“No, but they hafta listen to me now, else be overrun by a bunch of evil pervert bloodsuckers.”
“But, Mr. Gorman, you can’t just kill vampires,” Kevin objected, squaring his strap-laden shoulders. “It’s against the law, and, besides, I’m not finished studying Ms. Marinelli.”
“Whaddya mean, studyin’ her?”
“I’m getting my doctorate in paranormal phenomena.” Kevin fished in a pants pocket, pulled out some slightly battered business cards, then shoved one at Gorman and one at me. “I have a theory that vampires are predisposed to attract ghosts.”
Gorman snorted. “So what?”
“I’m here for a few weeks to take Ms. Marinelli’s tours and compile data. And if this guy”—he hooked his thumb at Jo-Jo—“is a real vampire, maybe he’ll let me study him, too.”
“Kevin, why don’t you go to a city with a large vamp population to study?” I had to ask. The young man flushed. “I tried, but none of the groups would cooperate.”
“Hell, son, what’d you expect from a bunch of monsters?”
“We are not all monsters,” Jo-Jo informed Gorman haughtily, “any more than all humans are criminals.”
“Yeah, right,” Gorman sneered. “We’ll just see how long it takes you to attack when we’re watchin’ your every move and back you in a corner.”
Gorman walked off with such a spring in his step, I expected him to click his heels. And that awful horror movie laugh? He was scarier as a happy man than he was an angry one.
“Well, the witch hunt is on again,” I said to no one in particular.
“That is one twisted dude,” Kevin chimed in.
“What do you think of my outfit, Highness? Is it too over-the-top for my act?”
“What act? Do you do ghost tours, too?” Kevin asked, fumbling for the camera hanging beneath all those crosses. Crosses that were now faintly glowing. Yikes. I needed to shake Kevin before he noticed. He might not freak, but I wasn’t taking the chance.
“He doesn’t give ghost tours, and it’s time for us to go.”
“Okay. Just a few more shots.”
Jo-Jo posed, slashing my rubber sword in the gusting wind as the camera clicked. I counted to five, grabbed his arm, and led him off toward the city gates.
“See you tomorrow, Ms. Marinelli,” Kevin called after us.
“Not if I call in sick,” I muttered.
“Uh, Highness, vampires don’t get sick.”
I shot Jo-Jo a sour look. “I get sick whenever I darn well feel like it, and stop swishing my sword.”
Jo-Jo wisely handed me my prop and kept his mouth shut.
Saber waited at the tiki bar on my patio and gave me only a welcoming peck on the cheek since Jo-Jo was there. The men settled in the living room while I changed out of my pirate costume, but I put my vampire hearing to good use and eavesdropped on them. Saber probed for more information about the vampire who was immune to silver, the one who had wounded Jo-Jo. Jo-Jo, though, seemed to have already told us what little he knew. Marco hadn’t been in Atlanta more than a year, and Jo-Jo avoided him. The confrontation over his longtime sweet-heart Jemina had come only after Jo-Jo had caught her with Marco.
“You can’t tell us anything else about this guy?” I asked as I joined them, comfy in my baggy blue shorts and a T-shirt. “He doesn’t have one single scar anywhere on his body?”
“Princess, we may all live together under Vlad’s rule and roof, but I had no reason to see Marco without clothing,” Jo-Jo said, then pursed his lips in thought. “The skin on his arms is whiter in some places than others.”
“Like sun damage or a skin condition?” Saber asked.
“I suppose, but the scarring or whatever it is would’ve occurred before he was turned.”