The Real Werewives of Vampire County

And, if I was reading between the lines right, it also meant Bliss would never eclipse Francine, which seemed to be a requirement for being a Predator.

“Introduce me to Bliss,” I said, scanning the designer crowd, as if I could somehow pick her out.

“No problem. I’ve been dying to show her what a train wreck you are,” Francine said, making me instantly regret my truth powers.

My head throbbed, the pain moving down my neck and into my shoulders and back as I pushed deeper into Francine’s mind.

I didn’t need the vulture’s approval. At least she didn’t know I was investigating.

She smirked down at me and I braced myself. Hopefully my initial questions had gotten me into her head enough, because I needed to know. “Did you kill Sunny McCarty?”

Francine tossed a lock of gleaming hair over her shoulder. “A massive Gothic chandelier killed Sunny.”

She was resisting. It seemed she’d dish out anyone else’s dirt, but there were barriers up when I aimed directly at her.

I regrouped and hit her again. “Were you behind the falling chandelier?”

“That would be impossible.” She pursed her lips. “The chandelier fell from the ceiling.”

Just shoot me now. I was running out of juice and she was playing semantics.

My head pounded. Dang. Most of my subjects would at least elaborate a little. Francine was going to torture me for every sliver she gave me. “Did you rip down the chandelier?” I pressed.

“According to the rumor mill, the chandelier was cut,” she said, her voice breathy with meaning, or perhaps the strain of avoiding my questions. “I’d say it was a planned job. You cut all but one wire and then … Snip, snap.”

Oh geez. My temples rang and the patio began to spin.

“Did you have anything to do with Sunny’s death?” I shrieked.

She blinked. “No.”

Finally. I wanted to curl up and sleep on the patio. “Then why?” Why had she made this so difficult? “Are you holding anything back?”

She leveled a predatory smile. “Yes.”

“What?” I grimaced. I couldn’t hold the link any longer. I let her go and with a crack, I felt our connection break.

My power shot back into me like a rubber band snapping. “Ow.” I clutched my head and fought a wave of nausea.

I was going to have a massive hangover from this one.

Francine felt it, too. She stared at me, rubbing at the spot above her ear. “What did you do?” she asked, the words coming slowly.

She squared her shoulders, regaining her trademark control. “Never mind.” She brushed past me and back to her party.

I could barely walk straight as I made my way through the partygoers, who were at this point almost giddy with anticipation. The vampires would be arriving soon. I could tell we had some werewife hopefuls in the house tonight.

Run, I wanted to tell them. Run and never look back.

“Nina,” I nearly ran into her.

“Whoa, girl,” she said, steadying me. “I see you had some of the sangria.”

“I’m looking for Bliss,” I said.

I didn’t know how I was going to question her. The pain in my head was growing worse and worse. I’d pushed myself too hard back there with Francine. But I couldn’t help it. The woman’s mind was a brick wall.

“Bliss had to cancel,” Nina said. “Oh yeah—excuse you,” she added sarcastically as a bimbo nearly trampled her on the way to go see a vampire.

“Why did Bliss cancel?” I asked. “I really wanted to meet her.” And her little dog, too.

Nina shrugged. “Why does Bliss do anything?”

I’d like to find out.

“Wait.” I needed to talk to Nina, too. My brain felt like cotton.

“Why are you cringing?” Nina asked, as I prepared to draw my powers out once again.

My head felt like it was going to split in half. I rubbed at my temples as I used all of my strength to draw a line between us.

“Mmm,” she said, bringing the fruity wine to her lips. “That tickles.”

At least her mind was open. It felt like walking through a soap bubble.

Even so, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I hadn’t even found a private place to question her. “Francine said Sunny was blackmailing you.”

“I’ll say. She was taking me for five thousand dollars a month.”

No way would I get deep enough to ask if she was the killer. I was surprised I’d gotten into her mind in the first place.

“Why was Sunny blackmailing you?”

Nina took a sip of wine, holding her glass to the side with two fingers. “She caught me giving my personal chef a bonus.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad.”

“On the dining room table.”

My brain was fuzzy, yet another side effect. “Well, he is a chef.”

“We weren’t eating, babe.”

Oy. I didn’t need that mental picture.

She noticed my discomfort and answered it with a sultry smile. “Oh, don’t be a prude. My husband doesn’t eat. I don’t eat. Our personal chef has to do something.”

“Just shoot me now.” These people were all nuts.

She tilted her head and studied me. “No. If I was going to kill you, I’d maul you.” She grinned. “Or just smack you with a chandelier, right?”

“What?” I demanded. But it was no use. The connection fizzled out. I had nothing left. Nina didn’t even notice.

She bent closer. “You don’t look so good.” She shook her wine goblet, the half-melted ice at the bottom sloshing from side to side. “You’d better lay off the hooch.”

I stumbled backward. I’d never questioned two people in one night and now I knew why. There wouldn’t be a third, that much was certain.

“I gotta go,” I said to no one in particular as I made my way back toward the house. The cool slap of air-conditioning hit me as I slid the glass door open. It felt good in a way, like laying my head on the cool porcelain of a toilet seat after I got sick questioning that Harley-riding witch back in Las Vegas.

She’d been a stubborn cuss.

But at least the biker witch wasn’t evil. I had a feeling there was more to Sunny’s murder than one desperate werewife gone off the deep end.

Francine and her dodgy answers.

Nina and her talk about chandeliers.

A large hand closed around my shoulder and I shouted.

“Heather,” he hissed in my ear.