Maggie had a peculiar gleam in her eye but only said, “Thanks for all your help with the party. We’ll finish cleaning in the morning before you go to bed.”
I waved as Maggie dragged Neil up the sidewalk to the house. I’d clean tonight, surprise Maggie, and then we’d have a talk about that vampire sponsor issue.
I caught up with Saber and Jo-Jo by the tiki bar on my patio. When I opened the cottage door, Jo-Jo whistled.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.”
I loved my living room, too, from the bamboo floors to the rich honey color on the walls, to the espresso-colored wood and leather furnishings. But I wasn’t letting Jo-Jo sidetrack me.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I deactivated the silent alarm system, then made a mental note to reset the code. Jo-Jo probably wouldn’t break into my home. Heck, thanks to Saber, my security system rivaled the president’s and the pope’s combined. However, there was no point in tempting an unknown vampire.
I meant to tell Jo-Jo to sit, but my hostess manners kicked me in the conscience. “Do you want a refreshment, Jo-Jo?”
The vampire slid a look at Saber. “I could use a bottle of warm blood, my princess.”
“You haven’t eaten tonight?”
“No, my lady. I arrived in town before sunrise and laid low until I found you. I didn’t travel with blood.”
Okay, so I had to give him credit for not being cranky with hunger. I uncapped a Starbloods bottle and popped it in the microwave, then uncapped a beer for Saber and grabbed a glass of ice chips for myself. I do love my new fridge with crushed ice in the door. Napkins and beverages on the teak tray—another splurge for my new home—and I was ready to deal with Jo-Jo. Until I handed him his drink, and he scowled at the label.
“Not to complain, Your Tastefulness, but do you have anything to drink that’s less, um, girly?”
“Like what? Fang Bang? Monster Mash?”
Saber snorted. “I imagine O Positive would do.”
“I don’t stock a variety of vampire drinks,” I reminded Saber, then looked at Jo-Jo. “It’s this or nothing.”
“Of course, Your Graciousness. Caramel macchiato is fine.”
He sat stiffly in the coffee-colored, cloud-soft leather chair opposite from where Saber and I sank into my matching couch. The old vampire, who didn’t appear any older than I did, also looked better now that he had cleaned up. His shaggy shoulder-length hair was sandy blond instead of just plain dirty, and even the wound on his forehead didn’t seem so raw. However, I was not—with a billboard-sized N—getting involved in his problems.
And caramel macchiato is not girly.
I didn’t hold my nose while Jo-Jo drank, but I didn’t watch him, either. By the time he’d finished, recapped the bottle, and set it on the dark wood coffee table, I was ready to crawl down his throat to drag the truth out of him. On the other hand, Saber got people to reveal all kinds of things just by chatting. Did I have that much patience?
Jo-Jo cleared his throat. “Will Your Magnificence give me leave to speak?”
“As long as you knock off the royal name-calling,” I snapped. So much for patience. He gave a short nod, and his gaze settled on Saber. “I saw your name in the paper with that of Her Highness. I know you used to hunt us, and I know you’re a special investigator now. May I speak freely?”
“I won’t arrest you for past crimes, if that’s what you mean,” Saber assured him.
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so take it from the top,” I said with a flip of my hand. “You’re Jo-Jo, a jester.”
“The Jester,” he said without an ounce of modesty. “I performed in the courts of medieval Europe, my princess. Kings vied for my services and loyalty. Why, I—”
“Jo-Jo,” I interrupted.
“You want me to fast-forward again, my lady?”
“Yes. I assume you were turned in the Middle Ages and couldn’t work anymore.”
“I might have if I’d been able to juggle.”
“I thought juggling was part of the whole jester shtick,” Saber said.
“It was, but you see, I wasn’t used to having vampire speed. I lost control of the knives and, uh, took out a few members of an august audience.”
“Such as an entire royal family?” Saber asked.
Jo-Jo shrugged. “Only one crown prince and a visiting head of state, but then the bloodlust hit me and, well—”
“You vamoosed out of town,” I finished. “What then?”
“I found refuge with a master vampire and relearned to juggle so I could earn my keep entertaining for his court.”
“How did you get to the States?” I prodded, intrigued in spite of the whole kicking-him-out thing to come.
“I immigrated with a small band of vampires in 1871. I moved out West for a while, then to New York City. The others moved to the South.”
If he was telling the truth—and he did seem sincere—then I’d already been buried for decades when he came to this country. So how did he know my title? I itched to ask, but Saber cut in.
“How long have you been in Atlanta?”
“Since about 1930. Before that I worked in vaudeville.”