Without another thought, I put on a pair of thick-heeled strappy sandals so I wouldn’t wobble (hopefully) and made my way down to the first floor. Mr. Tom stood in the doorway to one of the sitting rooms, his hand on the frame, looking at the front door.
“Can you see anything through the window?” Niamh asked from inside the sitting room.
“Quiet, woman,” Mr. Tom hissed.
“Quiet? You’re supposed to be using your eyes, not yer ears, ya muppet.”
“Someone should get Jess,” I heard Austin say. Relief washed over me—he hadn’t gone back to the bar yet. He would help.
“She’s here.” Mr. Tom watched me finish descending as the two pairs of feet stepped up onto the porch.
The metal of the door knocker struck wood. The dull thunk reverberated through the space, quaking the very marrow of the house. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, seeing a shadow fall over the sheer curtain covering the window beside the door. Bright tangerine light coated the porch, pushing back the darkness.
“How am I handling this?” I asked Mr. Tom, my hand on the railing.
“Goodness, miss, you look lovely. Excellent choice of dress for the occasion. You look just like the queen you are, ready to greet your new loyal subjects.”
“Janey Mack, what is he on about now?” Niamh said. “Loyal subjects? She’s going on a date, Earl, not retiring to her throne room.”
“That is gargoyle magic at the door, I can sense it,” Mr. Tom said haughtily, “and now she is the queen of our kind. You’d understand what I meant if any of your kind could stand joining your army of one.”
“There aren’t many of my kind, ye know that. Most of them have been killed off. The ones that are left are always on the whiskey. Mad as hatters. Horrible to be around.”
“Yes, your kind typically are.” Mr. Tom paused as the knocker struck again.
Austin appeared beside Mr. Tom, his mouth open to speak. But his gaze found me, and no words came out. He froze.
My stupid face flamed again.
“Earl, answer the door,” Niamh called. “Jessie, come in here with me. Let them ask for you.”
Austin’s gaze flicked up to my eyes, down again, and then back up. For the first time, I caught a little flush on his cheeks. His eyes stopped moving, as though he were focusing with everything he had on maintaining eye contact.
When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and deep and rough. “You are a showstopper, Jacinta. Stunning.”
My stomach flipped and I smiled, relief washing through me. I moved in their direction, motioning Mr. Tom to the door.
He smoothed his tuxedo jacket and fluttered his wings. “This would be much more impressive if I were of a proper age and had a lovely thick, black, full head of hair, but beggars can’t be choosers…” But the side-eye he gave me suggested otherwise.
“Well ye’ve certainly got an ear fulla hair, will that do?” Niamh called.
I smoothed my hands down my sides. “You don’t think it’s too much?” I asked Austin. “Or too revealing?”
“Not at all. It’s perfect. You look absolutely beautiful.” Austin turned and put out his arm for me to take, ready to escort me into the sitting room.
Niamh sat in a recliner with a beer in hand and her feet up. Edgar stood at the back, having showered and put on fresh white sweats with two mustard-colored stains near his collar. I really needed to have a word with Mr. Tom about changing the color of the sweats. White clearly was not working for the vampire. Mr. Tom was getting pissy about all the trips to the store for bleach and had slacked off. The result was not ideal.
Niamh whistled. “Well, look at ye. You shine up like a new penny, so you do. You look absolutely deadly. Fair play to ya.”
Edgar smiled, his extended canines making the expression ghastly. “Very pretty, Jessie. You’ll knock ’em dead.”
Austin stopped next to a love seat and flared his arm, releasing me. I sat down with what I knew was a goofy expression, but it felt nice to be treated like I was delicate. Like I was royalty.
The front door opened as Austin took a seat beside me.
“Is this the danger you felt, do you think?” he asked as I distinctly heard Mr. Tom say, “You rang?”
“What an eejit,” Niamh muttered. “He gets nervous and turns into a donkey. More of a donkey, I should say.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I whispered, trying to hear who was at the door. “This must be the first wave—the people I summoned before the bar.”
“Well, if Mr. Tom is right,” Edgar said, having no problem with Mr. Tom’s name change, “and they are gargoyles, then you’ll have your work cut out for you, Jessie. They are some of the most stubborn creatures alive, not to mention they’ll keep trying to mate you. They’re like ants in that way. They’ll be helplessly attracted to their queen, and they will feel it is their duty to help you conceive.”