“Darling, the store looks wonderful.” Cici walked over to a shelf to adjust a winged cherub. “I’m sure you will sell, sell, sell.”

“She will, Mother.” Frederick dropped a kiss on my cheek. “I have some more clothes for you in the trunk of my car. Old tuxes, a cashmere coat with a mink collar that I really don’t need in Texas.”

“Twinkie,” Will muttered.

“What did you say?” Derek was nose to nose with the dog before I could step between them.

“Will . . .”

“I was talking to the doodle here. Valdez. You know how he is about his treats.” Will backed up, his tail between his legs. I didn’t blame him. Derek’s fangs glinted in the light from the vintage chandeliers I’d had hung around the shop and he must have seriously worked out in his mortal lifetime.

“Sounded to me like a slur.” Derek glanced at Freddy. “I won’t stand for it. Especially not from you, dog breath.” He poked Will in the shoulder.

Will growled and showed his own canines. “You want to take this outside?”

“Cool it, boys. Sounds like a simple misunderstanding.” I gave Will a “shut-the-hell-up” look. “Freddy’s coat sounds fabulous.” I put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “You want to bring the clothes in?”

Derek gave Will one more look, then shrugged. “Sure. Anything to help the shop get going. I need this job. ” He ignored Freddy’s snort. It was no secret that his partner would have happily supported Derek forever. But Derek was a lot like me. He didn’t like to be totally dependent on anyone. His commissions at the shop gave him a much needed freedom from an allowance.

“Derek, I’m just happy you didn’t hook up with someone else while I was out of business.” I glanced at Freddy. Poor choice of words. Handsome, rich Freddy was more insecure than you’d expect from a man with his assets. But then he’d only been out of the closet a few decades. His earlier liaisons had all ended badly. Hey, I got it. I squeezed his arm and looked at the clock.

“Bring it in later, Derek. It’s almost time to open the doors.”

Derek nodded. “I’ve got something for you first.” He dug into his leather messenger bag and pulled out his laptop. He was one of those techno-geeks, not surprising since he hadn’t been a vampire for even half a century. He’d put my inventory on computer when I’d first opened the shop.

“Something on the laptop?” I gestured toward the counter. “I’ve updated our inventory on my new computer.” Translation: I’d done a lot of deleting. Thank God Derek had got us all in the habit of downloading everything on a flash drive each morning. A flash drive I’d had tucked in my purse upstairs the day of the fire. Boy, had I been relieved to remember that detail.

“A grand opening present.” Derek whipped open the laptop and set it on the counter. “Gather around everyone.” He booted it up and began typing. “Voilà. Vintagevamp shop.com.”

A Web site popped up on the screen. There it was, my shop. Or at least a photo of my shop at night. And all sorts of options including a shopping cart. Derek clicked on an icon and the Chanel suit I so adored came up, complete with price.

“Oh, my God! This is so cool.” I hugged him and stepped back so everyone could take a look.

“I tried to get Vintagevamps.com but it was taken. And who can spell emporium? I hope this is all right.”

“All right? Are you kidding?” I hugged him again, then clicked on another icon. CiCi’s porcelain cherub appeared. Sold, too, apparently, and at a great price. “When did you get this up?”

“A few days ago. I’ll have to show you how to access your PayPal account. We’ve already sold a few pieces.” He took the cherub off the shelf. “I’ll take care of the shipping and everything if I can have a commission on what we sell online.”

“Deal.” I was elated. A mantel clock Lacy had picked up at an estate sale chimed twelve and she threw open the doors. Flyers had gone out over the weekend and, even though it was 12:01 on a Tuesday morning, a massive crowd of three shoppers surged through the door.

“I love that poodle skirt in the window. My husband’s lodge is having a fifties dance. That would be perfect.” A woman with a name tag from a local supermarket had obviously just gotten off work.

“Wait!” Flo had been pretty quiet, but now she was determined to have center stage. She looked great in a blue cashmere sweater and Seven jeans with her high-heeled Christian Dior boots. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and stared until everyone, including the mortals, focused on her.

“Are we finally going to get to see what you’ve been painting?” I moved closer and grabbed my roomie’s arm. “I’ve been dying of curiosity.”

Lacy made a sound. Was she choking or—oh, my God—laughing? I braced myself. I’d had no idea that Flo even knew how to paint. Though she’d certainly had her share of artist lovers. All of them famous. Wouldn ’t it be cool if she’d copied her lover Leonardo’s Mona Lisa on the wall? No, scratch that. Flo hated Lisa and kept insisting she had been a he. Flo’s version would probably include a mustache.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Vintage Vamp’s.” Flo paused for dramatic effect and I braced myself. She ripped down the sheet.

The room was silent. Well, almost. Poodle Skirt Lady gasped and dropped a vintage twin set.

“Oh, my.” CiCi looked at me, then at Flo. “Why I had no idea, Florence, dear, that you had such hidden talents.”

“Maybe they should have stayed hidden.” Valdez nudged my hip. “Say something, Blondie.”

“It’s . . . it’s fabulous.”

Flo broke into a smile. “I learned to paint this way from my dear lover Edvard. I thought it was just what this wall needed. For a place called Vintage Vamp’s.”

“Edvard Munch?” One of the mortals, a tall woman who looked like she’d just left a trendy cocktail party, frowned. “But he’s been dead for—”

Frederick was beside her in a flash, literally. He nodded and Derek and CiCi handled the other two mortals. I may not be fond of the whammy anymore, but here it was a necessary evil. Had to feel sorry for the mortals, though, standing there with vacant eyes and gaping mouths, barely breathing mannequins.

“Of course he’s been dead for over a century. The fool wouldn’t let me turn him. ‘Why live forever,’ he would say, ‘When life is so painful?’ He was always sad. I think I only saw him laugh a few times. Sexy of course or I wouldn ’t have bothered with him.”

Flo stared at the painting with a wistful smile. “Maybe I should add more yellow. Edvard’s paintings were pretty gloomy.”

“Yeah. His work wasn’t exactly a laugh riot.” Will stared at the wall, apparently feeling free to chime in since the mortals were out of action, Lacy had locked the door again and Derek was ignoring him. “You did a good job. I recognized it immediately.”

“Thanks. I’m surprised you know it.” Flo hadn’t exactly fallen in love with Will, not when he’d dragged one of her Ferragamo slides out of her closet. No damage or we’d be talking dead dog here.

“I’ve seen some of his work.” Will looked over at Valdez’s snort. “An artistic girlfriend who liked museums. This looks like a combo platter, half The Scream, half Vampire.” He turned to Flo. “And all cool.”

“Why, thank you, William.” Flo pushed his head away when he nudged her butt. Then she looked around uncertainly. “Is it too .

. . dark?”

“I think it’s amazing.” Derek shook his head. “Hey, let’s see what mortals think, I figure it ’ll be unique to this shop. A conversation piece. Maybe I should take a picture of it and put it on the Web site.”

“You did a great job, Flo. This looks completely professional. ” I stepped closer. The female vamp had flowing red hair and leaned over a man. She looked on the verge of taking a bite. It was weird but, in its own way, beautiful. Now the screamer was a different story. Mouth open, he was probably horrified by the pair occupying the other half of the wall. He stood on a bridge, probably ready to jump because he had this really freaky looking alien head.

“It was fun. I may paint again.” Flo looked around the shop.

I had visions of a shop slash spook house that would make a horror director weak with envy. I had to head that off at the pass.

“We should hit an art supply store. Maybe you’d like to try your hand at a picture, something smaller to hang on the wall upstairs. Maybe a self-portrait. The vampire in this looks familiar.”

“It’s me, of course, though why Edvard wouldn’t paint in my face, I don’t know.” Flo wrinkled her perfect nose. “He said I was beautiful, but then he gave my hair red highlights. Do you see red in my hair? Pah! I think he lied when he said it had something to do with the composition. He had a redheaded lover after me.”

“No, the color draws attention to the vampire. Makes her the star.” Freddy grinned when Flo made one of her Italian gestures.

“It’s fantastic. I swear this looks just like his stuff. I have a print of Vampire in my study.” He’d been walking from one end of the wall to the other. “Munch was a little twisted, but brilliant.”

“That was Edvard. So tortured. I cheered him up for a little while, but it didn ’t last.” Flo made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I moved on.”

There was a knock on the door. More customers. Which was a good thing. I glanced at the wall. Derek was right. As a conversation piece, this was a doozy. I sent a mental message all around and we jumped back into place. The mortals snapped out of it, back on the scene as if they’d never moved from the spot when they’d first seen the painting. They were exclaiming over it when Lacy opened the door again and two men in their early twenties pushed inside. Richard was right behind them.