All Together Dead

owners bring live mice to their pets?
    “To answer your question, I would guess her handmaidens have removed her to her suite. She is brought out for special occasions.”
    “Like the good silver,” I said seriously, and then burst into giggles. To my surprise, Eric smiled, too, that big smile that made multiple little arcs appear in the corners of his mouth.
    We took our places behind the queen. I wasn’t sure she’d even registered my presence, she was so busy being the belle of the ball. But in a momentary lull in the chitchat, she reached behind her and took my hand, squeezing it very lightly. “We’ll talk later,” she said, and then greeted a stout female vampire in a sequined pantsuit. “Maude,” Sophie-Anne said, “how good to see you. And how are things going in Minnesota?”
    Just then a tap on the music stand drew everyone’s attention to the band. It was all vampire, I noticed with a start. The slick-haired guy at the podium said, “If all you hot vamps and vampesses are ready to rumble, we’re ready to play! I’m Rick Clark, and this is…the Dead Man Dance Band!”
    There was a polite smattering of applause.
    “Here to open the evening are two of Rhodes’s finest dancers, courtesy of Blue Moon Productions. Please welcome…Sean and Layla!”
    The pair who stepped out into the middle of the dance floor were striking, whether you were human or vamp. They were both of the cold-blooded variety themselves, though he was very old and she was freshly turned, I thought. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and she was wearing a beige lace dress that drifted around her world-class legs like snow falling around trees. Her partner was maybe the only vampire I’d ever seen with freckles, and his dusty red hair was as long as hers.
    They only had eyes for each other, and they danced together as if they were gliding through a dream.
    I had never seen anything like it, and from the rapt attention of the audience, no one else had, either. As the music drew to a conclusion—and to this day, I can’t remember what they danced to—Sean flung Layla back over his arm, bent over her, and bit. I was shocked, but the others seemed to expect it, and it turned them on no little amount. Sophie-Anne smoldered up at Andre (though she didn’t have far to smolder, since he wasn’t much taller than she), and Eric looked down at me with that hot light in his eyes that made me wary.
    I turned my attention to the dance floor with determination and clapped like a maniac when the two took their bow and more couples began to join them as the music started up again. From habit I looked around for Bill, who was nowhere to be seen.
    Then Eric said, “Let’s dance,” and I found I couldn’t say no.
    We took the floor along with the queen and her potential king, and I saw Russell Edgington and his husband, Bart, step out to dance, too. They looked almost as enthralled with each other as the two exhibition dancers.
    I can’t sing, but by golly, I can dance. And Eric had had a few ballroom lessons along the way, some century or other. My hand rested on his back, his on mine, our free hands clasped, and off we went. I wasn’t sure exactly what the dance was, but he was a strong leader, so it was easy to follow along. More like the waltz than anything else, I decided.
    “Pretty dress,” said the dancer Layla as we swung by them.
    “Thank you,” I said, and beamed at her. From someone as lovely as she was, that was a great compliment. Then her partner leaned over to give her a kiss, and they swirled away into the crowd.
    “That is a pretty dress,” Eric said. “And you are a beautiful woman.”
    I was oddly embarrassed. I’d gotten compliments before—you can’t be a barmaid and not get compliments—but most of them had consisted of (various degrees of drunk) guys telling me I was really cute—or, in one man’s case, how impressive my “rack” was. (Somehow, JB du Rone and Hoyt Fortenberry had managed to stomp on that guy’s toes and spill a drink all over him at the same time, just accidentally.)
    “Eric,” I said, but I couldn’t finish the sentence because I couldn’t think of what to say next. I had to concentrate on the speed with which my feet were moving. We were dancing so fast I felt like I was flying. Suddenly Eric dropped my hand to grip my waist, and as we turned, he swung me up, and then I was really flying, with a little help from a Viking. I laughed like a loon, my