The Last of the Red Hot Vampires - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,78
I am cheating a bit in that I can see there are only two women in the group, but even so, it makes sense that since the telepathist is from Newberry, and Mrs. Lee claims the town of Newberry, Mrs. Lee must be the telepath. Since she doesn't arrive with Susannah, then by the process of elimination, Mrs. Lee's first name must be Carol, which means that Mrs. Floring, the medium, is Susannah. She can't come from Newberry, St. Bartleby, or Learing-on-Bent, but could live in Leewardstone or Edmonds."
Milo smiled. My confidence rose.
"Since Mrs. Lee's friend is from Edmonds, and Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Floring don't get along, that means she's from Leewardstone. Daniel Richings doesn't live in Bartleby, nor can he live in Newberry or Leewardstone. Thus he has to live in Edmonds or Learing-on-Bent."
"What on earth are you doing?" Sarah frowned at me. "You're playing games while we are trying to conduct a very serious scientific investigation?"
"Just passing a little time," I said hastily, shoving my sheet of paper at Milo. "Are you all done with your humming?"
"It isn't just humming, it's opening ourselves up to...oh, why do I bother? Honestly, Portia, I'd think you could display a little more respect for what we're doing here, given the fact that you are what you now are," she said with a vehement whisper as she pulled me after the assembled group.
I tossed Milo an apologetic smile. He read over my paper, and gave me a thumbs-up, which I interpreted to mean I'd figured out the rest of the puzzle correctly. "Milo and I were just amusing ourselves while you guys were opening up and such. He's some sort of puzzle enthusiast. Did you know that his wife and the other woman don't get along?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist, hauling me along after the group. "Come on, we have a room to investigate. Mr. Richings says he has recorded a temperature drop of eight degrees there on three separate occasions."
"Probably just a draft," I muttered, but kept my voice low. I had promised Sarah I'd spend the evening with her temporary ghost hunting group in exchange for her help finding out what happened to Hope, and despite my wishes to be elsewhere at that moment - Theo's arms came to mind as a good alternative - I'd do what I could to see to it that Sarah had an enjoyable evening.
Why do I sense a profound feeling of martyrdom from you?
I smiled at the voice in my head. I'm feeling particularly saintly tonight.
Is it that bad?
Nothing I didn't expect. A bunch of people running around with equipment measuring drafts and electromagnetic flux, and jumping at every creak and pop.
It's only for a few hours. I'm sure you will triumph over such exacting circumstances.
Indeed. Why are you talking to me, not that I'm complaining? I thought you didn't want me bothering you?
Sweetling, you never bother me. You do, however, distract me from matters at hand. It's your breasts. And thighs. And lips, and legs, and all the other bits in between. Theo's words were accompanied by such erotic mental images that I found myself getting aroused right there in the middle of a cold, mouse-riddled mill.
If you don't want me running out of here, hunting you down, and wrestling you to the ground to have my way with you, you'd better stop sending me those sorts of thoughts.
Would you really wrestle me to the ground? he asked, sounding intrigued.
Absolutely. How goes the info-hunting?
He sighed. Not so good. The nephilim I contacted knew nothing.
Crap. So we don't have any leads?
No, we have one. My nephilim friend mentioned a vessel who evidently was very tight with Hope. But I can't find the man - he seems to have run to earth just like Hope.
A vessel is a person?
In this instance, yes. Vessels serve mortals, under the direct rule of the principalities, who in turn take their orders from powers, and the powers, as you know, are directly beneath the mare.
Sounds very much like the little old woman who swallowed a fly.
Pardon?
Nothing, just a joke, and not a very good one. So what now?
I'm going to continue to try to locate the missing vessel. I'll meet you at the pub after your ghostly group is finished, all right?
I suppose so, although I'd be happy to help you -
Sarah would be hurt.
"Portia?"
It was my turn to sigh. You're right. Saint Portia it is for the night, then.