La Vida Vampire

Some Sunday nights are hopping on St. George, but tonight it was quiet at the north end of town. Even the music from the Mill Top Tavern seemed muted. Maybe I’d have my first normal tour, and nothing would crop up to interfere with a long night of passion with Saber.

My hopes for that elusive normal tour ended when I saw the ten college students waiting for me. Spring breakers. They had the worst earmarks of the breed. Sunburned from hitting the beach, drunk from hitting the bars. A lot of bars, judging from the way they behaved. Loud, rowdy, stumbling, weaving. And that was just the girls. Two of them wore shorts so short and halters so brief, they were a deep breath away from public indecency.

No telling how active the ghosts would be tonight or how they’d react to this bunch. The weather was too calm to stir up the ghosts, and after they’d dodged vampires last night, they could be hiding from me or ticked off and ready to get even. Ghosts could be every bit as touchy or cranky or playful as they had been when they were alive. It would be nice if none of the spring breakers barfed on me. Since my Minorcan costume blouse was shot—literally—the Regency gown was all I had for work.

My phone rang just as I was about to start my opening spiel, and I fumbled in the reticule for it.

“Hey, Cesca,” Saber said when I answered. The connection wasn’t great but adequate. “Have you started the tour yet?”

“Nope, what’s up?”

“I’ll be late catching up with you. I’m in Palatka chasing down this werebite report.”

Palatka was forty-five minutes southwest of St. Augustine. Not a bad drive, but he wouldn’t make it back by nine.

“It’ll be closer to nine thirty before I get there. Should I find you in town or meet you at the condo?”

“I’ll call you when I finish, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Great. No vampires on the tour, right?”

“Nope, just spring breakers.”

“Drunk?”

“Pretty snockered.”

“Give ’em the full show. That ought to sober them up.”

I laughed. “Oooh, evil, Saber.”

“Be careful, Princesca. I’ll see you later.”

I couldn’t help the grin I felt spread over my face. Saber had sounded like he missed me. What a high. Now I could deal with anything. I set the cell phone to vibrate, dropped it in my reticule, and turned to my group to implement Saber’s advice.

“Good evening and welcome to Old Coast Ghost Tours. I’m Cesca, and we have an exciting night ahead of us.” I waded through their beer and tequila fumes to snag the lantern. “If you’ll give me your tickets, we’ll get started.”

Nine pairs of eyes blinked stupidly. One set still held some awareness.

“Are you the designated driver?” I asked the not-drunk-stupid young man with shaggy brown hair.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ah, manners. “Are you also the designated ticket holder?”

“Oh, yeah, here,” he said, thrusting a handful at me.

“Thank you.”

I stashed the tickets in the substation and prepared to find out how functional this group was. I’d stick to the most brightly lit and well-traveled streets first for safety. If one of them fell off a curb, I could get help fast.

“St. Augustine was founded in 1565 and is one of the most haunted cities in America. Tonight we ’ll even go into a few of the buildings where ghosts have been reported, but we’ll start with the Huguenot Cemetery.”