Thank you so much for sending me a skull! Here's an excerpt from my WIP, Gothic Tales from Melancholia:
‘What are you up for?’ Sarah Bernard asked wearily, throwing her gloves onto the hall table, where it knocked against a display case of mouse skulls (labelled with names such as Dr Seward, Geraldine, Baldy Sr and Little Tu-Tu).
‘I want you to pop down to the post office and send this to my wife in Scotland.’ The vampire presented her with a severed head with a flourish. ‘I would like to ask her to have her friends identify it.’
‘And there was me thinking it was a peace offering.’
Pierce blinked. ‘No. Why would I do that?’
‘Didn't you go out with that Byronic college kid again last night?’
Pierce looked at her reproachfully. ‘That was entirely above board! We watched an utterly incomprehensible German expressionist film and he called me a savage when I fell asleep.’
Sarah grunted. ‘As you say. Anyway, you needn’t go and give the postmaster heart failure. I know where the mark lives.’
Pierce opened a window and threw out the severed head; someone below screamed blue murder. 'In that case, I hope to give a stab at killing him tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ asked Sarah, tossing her coat onto the coat rack and smoothing the front of her gown, making the krakens and fog-ridden islands embroidered on it writhe in black silken waves. ‘What about that cousin of yours who’s been harassing a seaside resort?’
‘It's the wet off-season, I don’t think we shall be getting any complaints from holiday-makers all too soon, and she’ll be occupied with fixing leaks in the Abbey. And the damp air is bad for my throat.’
‘God, you’re dainty. Speaking of which, I didn’t know vampires could get nosebleeds.’
‘That is a purely technical issue; most writers of vampires-fiction protect their nocturnal children’s reputations from such outrages.’
‘You really are the worst vampire in existence.’
Pierce threw up his hands. ‘Me! What about Varney the Vampire?’
Sarah winced. ‘Touchée. Hard to beat a vampire who chucked himself into Mount Vesuvius.’
‘Well, I’m going to lie down,’ said Pierce. ‘Man the fort, Sally dear, if you get the desire to kill someone, have some coffee before you actually act on it. There’s a piping-hot pot in the drawing room.’
‘You don’t need to sleep, look at you! You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!’ growled Sarah, stalking into the drawing room and pouring herself coffee with unnecessary violence.
~Send me a 💀 (or any other skull) in my asks if you want more excerpts! Feel free to specify what sort of scenes you want to read~
Drawings of Pierce and Sarah here!
