Read Online Frost Moon by Anthony Francis - Free Book Online Page B

the voice replied. “Show her in.”
    “Thanks,” the boy said. “After you, my dear—”
    “For the second time in as many days,” I said, “Fuck that.”
    The boy shrugged, smiling. “Have it your way, Miss Frost.”
    “I never told you my name,” I said.
    He tapped his head. “Quick.” Then he shrugged, as if he hated calling attention to his smarts. “Also notice ‘detective’ in Junior Van Helsing Detective Agency?”
    “You’re a real little dick, you know that?”
    He looked back in shock, saw me smiling, and then got it. “Have it your way, Miss Frost,” he said, and opened the door.
    The interior of the church had been redone since I’d last seen it. The altar and pews had been long gone when Savannah had converted it to a living space, but now her futon, beanbag and Target end tables were gone too, replaced by a large L-shaped sofa and elegant coffee table, which faced a widescreen TV sitting on a circular platform. Sweeps of fabric hung from the ceiling, pouring down like tapestries on the walls where her posters had once hung. Small statues stood on pedestals beneath the stained glass windows; an elaborately dressed maid was dusting one bust carefully. And at the end of the room, on the raised dais that had once held the altar, an unfamiliar black female vampire sat on a throne, staring at me with cold blue eyes.
    The door closed behind me, and I stepped forward. The vampire was stunning: tall, strong, body wrapped in a tight leather corset-like bodice that accented her bust. Crossed legs seemed poured into boots that came all the way up to her bare thighs—just Savannah’s type. Beside her, a masked man knelt, his young muscular chest harnessed in crisscrossed straps of leather, and wearing cheekchiller chaps that exposed his backside. I arched an eyebrow: the boy was wearing a collar and leash, and the leather mask was in the shape of a dog’s face. Also Savannah’s type.
    I was confused. The black vampire on the throne was not Savannah… but this scene was all too Savannah. The colors of the fabric sweeping the ceiling were those Savannah liked. I remembered shopping for couches with her and looking at this specific one. Even the statues on the pedestals looked familiar—Savannah had once kept them in her storage unit. The entire scene was something she might have designed, down to the leashed dog.
    “Who are you,” the vampire said, “and what made you brave disturbing—”
    “And who the fuck are you?” I asked. “And where’s the Lady Saffron? I need to—”
    The vampire inclined her head, and the maid turned to look at me.
    I blinked in shock.
    The maid was Savannah.

11. THE VAMPIRE QUEEN OF LITTLE FIVE POINTS
    Savannah Winters was dressed head to toe in black and white. A black, corset-like mask covered her delicate oval face from neck to nose. Her glorious flaming red hair swung free beneath a frilled maid’s cap. And she wore a matching black satin French maid’s dress, whose elaborate white lacings barely seemed to hold in her curvy form. The uniform was a hell of an outfit; Jinx would have died for it, if only she could have seen it; on the other hand, Jinx and Savannah still talked, so maybe they shopped at the same store.
    But the outfit was more than pretty. The mask had no opening for her mouth. Restrictive leather mittens came up to her elbows. And barely visible beneath the ruffles of her dress were a pair of thigh bands: steel, black-rimmed, and connected by a short chain that rattled with each step. Thigh-high black boots with locked buckles finished the outfit. The boots ended in platforms so totteringly high that I felt like I’d fall over just looking at her.
    “Savannah,” I said. “What the hell’s happened to you?”
    At that Savannah glared at me from beneath her maid’s bonnet and tossed her antique featherduster down. She stomped loudly over towards the center of the room, rattling with each step, and stopped straight in front of me. Even