Much Ado About Vampires

Dear Readers,

Lest you be freaked out by the excerpt that follows—and I know right now some of you are looking worried at even the mention of doing such a thing—let me reassure you that even though the excerpt from It’s All Greek to Me is (gasp!) a contemporary romantic comedy, there are more Dark Ones and dragon books coming.

Why, then, you might be asking yourself, did I suddenly run amok and write a contemporary? I can answer that in two words: my muse. Or, rather, three words: my pesky muse. She had an idea for a book that would poke a little gentle fun at some romance novel stereotypes, and I learned long ago to listen to her when she insists we write a book.

While I’m on the subject of upcoming books, let me add a note about the Dark Ones in particular. I know many of you are hoping for another Ben and Fran book, and I want to reassure you that they have a significant part to play regarding the situations brought to light via the previous Dark Ones book, In the Company of Vampires . They may have to adopt secondary roles for the next book, but they will, indeed, be present and looking for some answers.

Katie MacAlister

The man in front of her was crazy. That, or he was having some sort of an attack—one that involved dancing up and down and gesturing wildly, all the while talking a mile a minute, his words tumbling out with such speed, they all ran together into one dense, unintelligible stream.

Not that Harry could have understood the words even if he had been speaking slower. She stood up from where she’d been seated on a wooden lounge, enjoying the peace of the balmy Mediterranean night. “The temptation to say ‘I’m sorry, but it’s all Greek to me,’ is almost overwhelming—you do realize that, right?” she asked the man.

He continued his dancing-gesturing-babbling routine, this time adding a peculiar plucking motion with the hem of her linen tunic.

She glanced around, wondering if she’d misunderstood. “Am I not supposed to be here? Is this garden off limits to us? Derek said it was the garden area on the other side of the house that was for guests only. Did I get that wrong?”

The little man—and he was little, at least a good ten inches shorter than her solid six feet—evidently grew distressed at her inability to understand, and grabbed her wrist, hauling her toward the massive bulk of the house.

“Is Timmy in the well?” she asked, a little smile curling her lips before her gaze moved from what must surely have been one of the servants to the house itself. “Only house doesn’t quite cut it as a description, does it? It’s more like a palace. Houses don’t have wings—palaces do. And I defy you to find a house sitting by its lonesome on its very own Greek island. No, sir, this is a palace pure and simple, and although I’m sure you have a good reason for dragging me to it, I should point out that the only people who are staying in its palatial confines are guests, and I’m with the band. We have the little bungalow on the servant end of the island. Hello? You really don’t speak a word of English, do you?” Harry sighed.

The man continued to drag her through a very pleasant garden, filled with sweet-scented flowering Mediterranean shrubs unfamiliar to her, attractive hedges, and pretty neoclassical statues. The night air was balmy, the heavy scent from some flower mingling with the sharper and, to her mind, more pleasing tang of the sea. It was everything she imagined a rich man’s private island paradise should be. Well, with the exception of the wizened little man attached to her wrist.

“I couldn’t just sit quietly somewhere? ” she asked the man, whose fingers were locked like steel around her wrist. “I promise that I won’t bother anyone. I don’t think I could—I’m so jet-lagged, I can’t even think straight. Look, that’s a nice little bench right over there in the corner next to the statue of the guy with a really big winky. I won’t be in anyone’s way. I’ll just go sit and contemplate his gigantic genitals, and all will be well.”

“Harry!” A man appeared suddenly at a window, hanging out of it and waving frantically. “There you are! Hurry!”

“Derek, what are you doing in the house?” Harry thinned her lips at the sight of the young man. “You said we weren’t supposed to go near it while the guests were here.”

“That doesn’t matter now! Hurry up!”

“If you think I don’t have anything better to do than to fly halfway around the world to bail your butt out of trouble because you can’t follow a few simple rules—”

“No, it’s not me.” He pulled back inside the window. “It’s Cyn! She’s been attacked!”

“What!” The fury in her bellow took the little man still attached to her wrist by surprise, for he dropped her hand as if it was suddenly made of fire. Adrenaline shot through her with a painful spike—adrenaline and a fury that almost consumed her. She leaped forward, easily hurdling the low stone balustrade of a patio area as she bolted for the nearest entrance to the house, wrenching open a pair of French doors. She didn’t stop to apologize to the small group of people standing around a pool table, racing around the men and women in elegant evening clothes, making a beeline for the door that was bound to lead to a central area of the house.

The little servant trailed her as far as a marble-tiled corridor, where he veered off to who knew where. Harry didn’t care—her mind was blank except for the horror of the words that kept repeating in her head. It’s Cyn! She’s been attacked!

“Harry, thank God—” Terry emerged from a side hall, gesturing toward a curving staircase, his face tight with worry. “We didn’t know where you were. She’s up here.”

Harry ground off a good layer or two of enamel as the pair of them leaped up the seemingly endless stairs, one distracted part of her mind finding it ironic that now, of all times, she should be thankful for her height and long legs. “What happened?” she managed to get out as they crested the stairs, and Terry pointed to the left.

He cast her a worried look, but said nothing. Derek almost collided with her as he burst out of a room. “In here! Harry, you have to do something! The bastard . . . he . . . he . . . !”

“I’ll kill whoever it is,” she ground out, her blood running icy at the thought of whatever atrocity had occurred. She shoved Derek aside and entered the room, her breath ragged, her heart about ready to leap from her chest. She’d heard the phrase “seeing red” before, but had never thought it could be taken as literal. For a few seconds, though, she swore everything in the room had an ugly red tint to it. It was obviously a bedroom; a quick glance took in the usual occasional chairs, a large bureau with matching wardrobe, and a big bed swathed in some sort of filmy draperies that fluttered in the breeze drifting in through open French doors. Her attention narrowed to the bed as she dashed to it, immediately taking into her arms one of the two huddled, sobbing figures there.

Dimly, she was aware that there was another person in the room, but his identity faded to insignificance. “It’s all right, Cyndi. I’m here now,” she said, her fury rising as the younger woman sobbed onto her shoulder. “You’ll be OK. We’ll make whoever did this pay.”

“He’s evil! He’s horrible!” Cyndi pulled back, tears spilling over already red and bloodshot eyes. She was naked, a sheet clutched to her bare breasts, her face unmarked but blotchy from the tears. There were some nasty-looking raw marks on her neck and chest, but it was the petulant purse of her lips that suddenly chimed a warning bell in Harry’s brain.

“What happened? Did someone attack you?”

Cyndi drew in a long, trembling breath and glanced over Harry’s shoulder. “Yes. Well . . . more or less. He dumped me, Harry. Dumped me!”

Harry blinked for a few seconds. “He what?”

“Dumped me, cruelly and . . . and . . . viciously. I came up to his room, and I thought we were going to hook up, and everything was going along very nicely, and before we could get down to, you know, really doing it, he told me to leave. Just like that!”

Harry passed a shaking hand over her eyes. Slowly, her heart rate dropped back to reasonable levels “So you weren’t attacked?”

“Verbally I was. He told me that he didn’t want to have sex with me, and that I should leave because he