“This is not a good time, Miss Implant." Roman felt Jean-Luc jabbing him in the back with his walking stick. "Uh, Porky. No, I mean--" Damn, what the hell was her name?”
“Ye know, Cork Courrant-Porky Implant. Tis a jest" Ian”
“Jean-Luc glanced at the coach. "Who is that man? What is that machine?""It's a dunking booth.""Ah, I understand." Jean-Luc nodded. "If he dose not drown, then he is a witch""No, he's just a creep. It's a game.”
“Ignore him," Heather begged. "I do. Constantly." Jean-Luc studied the coach, then turned to Heather with a wary look. "Every man in this town wants you." She laughed. "Yea, right. The old guys from the nursing home go into cardiac arrest whenever I walk by." His gaze drifted over her. "I can believe that.”
“Well, make up your mind. I don’t have all night.” Fidelia set her beer on the porch and removed a set of keys from her skirt pocket. She fumbled with the key, trying to release the trigger lock on her pistol.“Don’t do that,” Heather warned her. “You’ve had too much to drink.”Fidelia snorted. “I’m not drunk. I’m in complete control.” She tore off the trigger lock.Bang! The gun fired, ripping into a nearby oak tree.The women screamed. Jean-Luc winced.A squirrel plummeted from the tree and landed in the yard with a thud.Fidelia shrugged. “I meant to do that. Damned rodent’s been gnawing on the house. And stealing all the nuts from our pecan tree.”Heather planted her hands on her hips. “Haven’t I told you a million times to keep the locks on?”Fidelia hung her head, looking properly remorseful. “I’ll be more careful.” She switched on the safety, then shot Jean-Luc a pointed look. “I know how to deal with a scumbag with nuts.”
“Gregori jolted back. "Snap! You couldn't control one measly mortal?"Roman clenched his fists. "No."Gregori slapped a hand against his brow. "Snap!""Why the hell are you snapping? Are you a turtle?" It was times like this that firing Gregoriseemed to be the wise choice.”
“But he’s a vampire.” — HeatherFidelia shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect. My second husband—he had six toes on one foot.”“This is a little more serious than that. Jean-Luc is literally dead half the time.”Fidelia nodded. “For most men, that would be an improvement.”