Moon River Read Online Free Page A

you’re not losing your mind. At least, not at the moment. We’ll see how you hold up when this is all over .”
    “ And what’s this ?”
    I thought about that. The night was chilly, but nothing my immortal flesh couldn’t handle. The detective, on the other hand, kept both hands in his jeans pockets in an effort to look both cool and keep warm. Guys.
    I said, “Someone wanted to make sure this attack was obvious.”
    “ Obvious that it was a vampire attack?”
    “ You catch on quick,” I said.
    “ So, is there some sort of vampire war that the rest of us mere mortals aren’t aware of?”
    “ You’ve been watching too much True Blood , detective. Vampires live discreetly, kill discreetly. The ones I know enjoy their anonymity and try like hell to exist in the real world.”
    “ So, why would someone want us to think this was a vampire attack?”
    “ A good question, Detective, but one I don’t know the answer to. At least, not yet. And the girl—”
    “ You mean ghost.”
    “ Yes, the ghost doesn’t know anything. She didn’t see who attacked her.”
    Sanchez shivered a little. “Kind of creepy to think that these woods are full of vampires and ghosts.”
    “And nervous cops with guns.”
    “ Touché‎ ,” he said. “And you promise to wipe my memory clean of all of this later?”
    “ If you want.”
    “ I very much want.”
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    We were at Zov’s Bistro.
    Yes, the same Zov’s Bistro where I often saw one of my favorite thriller writers. I loved his books, but I didn’t love his fake hair. He was here now, eating with his wife, and looking very serious while he did so. That was okay. I liked my thriller writers looking serious.
    “ Do you read his books?” I asked Allison as we were seated.
    “ Whose books?”
    “ His books.” I pointed at the little man, and told Allison his name.
    “ Never heard of him.”
    I stared at her. “Do you even like to read, Allison?”
    “I read magazines.”
    “ Books, Allison. Do you read books?”
    “ Not really. They’re kinda, you know, boring—wait, I did just read a book.”
    As she said the words, I saw the book in my mind’s eyes. Yes, Allison and I were deeply connected. Too connected. “You read a book on witchcraft ?”
    “ On Wicca,” she said, lowering her voice. And this might have been the first time I’d ever heard Allison lower her voice. “There’s a difference.”
    “ Enlighten me.”
    She was about to when the waitress came by and took our drink orders. White wine for me, red for Allison. I would have preferred a margarita, or something fun and foofy. Sadly, my body barely tolerated the white wine.
    Zov’s Bistro was a quaint, upscale restaurant with reasonable prices in exchange for uncommonly good food. At least, that’s what I was told, since I hadn’t eaten regular food in seven years. No, I came here for the ambiance...and sometimes a raw steak. Raw steaks didn’t always do it for me. The blood that pooled around the steak had been warmed and seasoned and so wasn’t pure enough. Anything impure—i.e., not blood—was liable to get a violent reaction from me. And by violent, yes, I mean projectile vomiting.
    The local writer, I noted, was staring at me. I remembered back in the days when he was bald. He looked good bald. He looked serious and kind of sexy. Like a literary Burt Reynolds. The fake hair looked disturbing. And it wasn’t just a little fake. It was a massive pile of it. Thick and proud and weird. In a way, I admired him for it. After all, if you’re gonna get transplants—and not fool anyone in the process—then, by God, you might as well go all in.
    “You seem way too fixated on the poor man’s hair. I think it looks nice,” said Allison, picking up on my thoughts. Generally, I didn’t close my thoughts off to Allison. Lately, I’d been thinking of her more and more as a sister.
    “ I’m glad you think so,” said Allison, “because there is a good chance