Examining the woman's back, Sam was thankful that Jessie had worn her hair short, because she found what she was looking for on Jessie's neck. Even after seeing it with her own eyes, she still had trouble believing. But the rock solid evidence left no doubt as to who or what had perpetrated this crime.
Ripley moved forward, staring hard at the two large fang marks on the back of Jessie's neck, just below the hairline. "It looks like a bite, but it's too big to be a vampire's, and a werewolf would have torn the skin more."
"It's a serpent bite." Sam opened her hands to show them the scales. Then, pointing to the claw marks on Jessie's lower body, she added, "Claw imprints. They resemble the claws of a lion, but are a bit shorter and thicker."
"Impossible!" the Prince argued, his voice filled with disbelief and horror. Nic gently replaced Jessie's stone body to its original position on the bed.
"When you rule out the impossible, all that's left is the possible," Sam quoted. That was wisdom from her favorite literary detective, besides Sam Spade.
"That's right," Nic stated grimly, facing his cousin. "She was bitten by a Meduse, a gorgon. Hard to believe, but true."
"A Meduse?" Ripley asked in confusion.
At that moment, the sound of voices and footsteps approaching interrupted their discussion. A few seconds later, Sam felt decidedly less feminine as two drop-undead-gorgeous female vampires walked into the room. Escorting them was a short but well-muscled vampire with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He would have been extremely good-looking if he didn't have beady black eyes. In human years he looked about twenty. In lived years, who knew?
The taller of the two women, a honey blonde, was statuesque with pale eyes the color of amber. The shorter had a knockout figure, perfectly proportioned, and was beyond pale with tiny freckles covering her face and shoulders. She had hair the color of copper, hair clearly natural because that color didn't come out of any bottle—although the Irish vampiress could really have used a different haircut. A cut that maybe feathered more about her face, Sam thought as she brushed her fingers through her own loose hair, hoping that it didn't look too windblown.
Studying the extremely pale redhead, she reflected a moment that she had never met an Irish vampire before, although she had known quite a few leprechauns. Those were short charming fellows with a ready laugh, but were terrible employees. Always off to see what was over the next hill. And on rainy days, forget it.
The Irish vampiress glided up to Nic and kissed him on the cheek, and Sam decided then and there that she didn't like her. The hag could forget any hair tips that might otherwise have dropped her way.
"Hello, Nic," the sexy redhead said. "It's been a long time since I've seen you in our neck of the woods."
Not long enough, Sam thought, keeping her irritation hidden behind a mask of cool disdain. The redheaded vamp was trying to vamp Nic with her odious charms.
"Forest. Nice to see you, too," Nic replied, eyeing the rather spectacular cleavage on display with the dress. "Let me introduce you to Alex, my little brother, and Samantha Hammett."
Forest smiled at Alex flirtatiously, then turned to Sam and deliberately shot her a mean smirk, her dark green eyes shining with malice. The expression revealed a hint of very white, very long fang.
Ha! Sam thought. Those two-inch fangs didn't scare her at all.
Nic motioned with his hand for Sam to step closer. "Samantha, this is Forest O'Day." Gesturing to the short male vampire and the tall blond female, he added, "And this is Boris Van Winkle and Natasha Barrington, Jessie's sister."
Boris flashed a big smile, with plenty of tooth, while Natasha merely nodded. She turned back to stare sadly at what was left of her sister.
"Sam is helping us out on this case. She owns Triple-P, Paranormal bustin' Pest Pursuers." No one seemed particularly impressed by Nic's introduction, Sam noted peevishly.
"Let's go downstairs and discuss what we have learned so far," Nic advised, taking Forest by the arm.
"So, you know what did this to my sister?" Natasha asked, her voice filled with equal amounts of hate and sorrow.
"Let's take the discussion downstairs," Petroff Varinski repeated. He'd noted the extreme pallor of his old lover's face, which was really pale even for a vampire.
Feeling like last night's cold pizza, Sam followed the others downstairs, taking one final look at Jessie Barrington's corpse as she muttered, "Hold on to your hats, ladies and vampires, because we have a rocky road ahead." Then Sam walked out of the room, singularly alone and feeling it.
The Rocky and Van Winkle Show
Downstairs, Prince Varinski seated himself next to Natasha, petting her hand from time to time in a gesture of comfort. Boris Van Winkle sat on her other side, his hand possessively caressing the vampiress's knee.
Alex and Ripley stood by the huge black-bricked fireplace, their moods betrayed by the restless energy with which they shifted from foot to foot.
The moment they had entered the room, Forest had pulled Nic down beside her on a small sofa. Next, the vampiress had entwined herself around him like a snake, Sam observed hotly, noticing immediately that there was less than an inch of space between him and the viperous vamp. She undoubtedly wanted to sink her fangs into him; it was so obvious, Sam wished herself oblivious to the tacky seduction.
More the fool, she, Sam decided disgustedly. Let Nic break the Irish vampire's heart and take her to the heights of heaven, only to let her fall back to earth with a big fat splat, like Sam had done. Let the slinky Forest O'Day get lost in the wood.
Sam narrowed her eyes at the cackling couple. Nic seemed to be enjoying all of the overdone attention, and right now the vampiress was running her fingers along his collar, playing with all his silky, thick hair. Natural hair, because Nic didn't wear any hair gels, like the overmoussed Forest, whose front bangs were a little stiff. Rolling her eyes, Sam regretted that she even cared how Forest the sex kitten was eyeing Nic, like he was a tasty piece of chocolate that she intended to devour.
Narrowing her eyes in derision, Sam watched Forest flutter her eyelashes, a flirtation that had gone out of fashion with the Civil War. Of course, Sam judged, Forest was no sapling; she was more an old growth, because it was obvious the vampiress had seen at least two centuries, maybe more. How could Nic be interested in an older woman that old? And he'd warned her about being professional, while all the time his eyes were glued to this client's cleavage. Professional, my ass, she grumbled silently.
She had the sudden urge to shout "Fire, fire—run, Forest, run," then sit back and watch the vampires all fly to the front door in fear of their overindulged lives. It was a cruel thought, and it made her smile secretly since she had gumption to do it. Unfortunately, she also had the smarts to know better.
Natasha Barrington's words interrupted Sam's criticism of her competition—competition Sam wasn't willing to yet admit was competition.
"I just know Jessie would die if she knew she was immortalized in grey."
"She'd be petrified," Forest agreed. "Jessie should have been changed into marble or gold, not something as mundane as rock."
"She was such a beautiful creature, all fire and light. Now she's stone cold dead. We'll never again share the thrill of shopping for a good bargain on coffins, or drink human martinis at sunrise after a night of raunchy sex," Natasha mourned, her eyes filling with scarlet tears.
Listening to Natasha's grief, Sam was very glad that she wasn't a vampire: coffin hunting and human martinis were not her thing. In fact, the only thing she had ever liked about a martini was the glass. And the olive. The drink tasted like hair tonic.