The hum of the limo's engine barely registered over the obnoxious dance music the chauffeur had playing through the limo speakers. Outside, the neon lights of Ocean Drive flashed against the windows, bathing the interior of the car like a nightclub. I leaned back against the smooth leather bench seat, my fingers tapping the seats in absent time with the music.

"We should've flown," Eric muttered, leaning to stare out the window. "Traffic's a nightmare."

I followed his gaze to the endless stream of red brake lights ahead, a glowing river of cars stretching into the distance. Things certainly got hopping in Miami this time of night. I retrieved my phone from my purse and searched online for the Museum of the Ancient Occult.

"It doesn't close till three am," I said, "I think we'll be fine."

Amelia and Bubba had decided to stay behind at the other museum, with Amelia promising to use her witchy skills to gather any evidence she could find. Bubba had evidently revealed to her that the antiquity museum was where he first felt the curse's effect, so Amelia felt certain she'd uncover any evidence or remnant of magic if it existed.

"I'm not confident we'll get any closer to solving this even if they stay open until dawn," he groused. I couldn't disagree. A single weekend seemed hardly enough time to unravel all of this.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "I'd assumed Bubba had been acting strange from the curse, but maybe it wasn't just that."
"Then what else?"

"Heartbreak."

"Heartbreak? You think he had a relationship with this Letitia woman?" His expression was doubtful.

I thought back to the way Bubba had been behaving in New Orleans. Coping poorly with his personal crisis sure, but also … he'd been maudlin. "Cassia didn't seem to think they had a relationship. I don't know." I shrugged.

"An infatuation then?"

"But who was the infatuated one? Bubba or this Letitia?" I asked.

"Perhaps it was mutual."

Given Bubba's moodiness and what Cassia had described of Letitia, it could very well be the case.

"Maybe it was more that Bubba enjoyed the attention from an admirer. He certainly did when he was alive and breathing," he added.

"Most men do, alive or dead," I said and rolled my eyes as Eric flashed me a caddish smile. He reached out a hand and I slipped my own into it, our fingers intertwining. Before long I was nestled tightly at his side, his hand at the nape of my neck, angling my face toward his.

"We do so enjoy them," he murmured. The bright lights of the strip reflected in his eyes, turning them into inviting pools. I leaned up, brushing my lips against his, keeping my own eyes open. It was hard to mistake the predatory glint in his gaze. He deepened the kiss and I let my eyes flutter closed, and the world fall away for a few short minutes. Being stuck in traffic didn't have to be all bad.

He lowered his head, running kisses down the column of my neck. I wound my fingers through his hair, down across the broad plane of his back, pressing myself more fully to him. He moved to cup my breast, rolling his thumb across the fabric covering my nipple. The movement sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I whimpered.

He chuckled, a low sound. "You're very tempting, lover." The limo began moving again. Alas, even seduction had to yield to the road rules.

"You're a distraction," I said, gently pushing him away with a breathy laugh. "And you started it."

When the limo eventually came to a stop at our destination, we reluctantly disentangled from each other and found ourselves on a bustling strip of Miami.

The so-called 'museum' stood out in the busy scene, marked by a bawdy, flashing neon sign. It was two storefronts long from where we stood and sandwiched between a boho jewelry store and Mexican restaurant. The glass windows at the front had been vinyled over with decals of a cartoon version of Death holding his scythe in one hand and looking at a crystal ball held aloft by the other hand. A young guy, dressed in a fake gothic Victorian outfit with ruffled neck and silk cape stood at the doors soliciting tourists, handing out pamphlets and inviting them inside.

"Tackier than expected," Eric said into my ear. That was an understatement. The other museum felt like exploring an Italian villa filled with fine art and antiquities… this felt like a roadside tourist attraction. A Ripley's Believe it or Not for the supernatural.

We entered via the sliding double doors and stepped into a dark foyer. The walls were painted black with blood red velour carpeting underfoot. A tall vampire, dressed in a top hat and coattails, greeted us from behind a large wooden lectern. He appeared to have been turned in his thirties, with dark hair that starkly contrasted his luminescent skin. But what was most striking were his eyes: one a piercing blue, the other green.

"Welcome!" he said, with a booming regal tone, "to the Museum of the Ancient Occult. You've missed our most recent tour but purchase a ticket now and wait in our temple of purgatory for the next tour to begin in a quarter hour." The line passed smoothly and rehearsed from his lips.

Caught off guard, I shot Eric a sideways glance. We hadn't exactly discussed how we were going to handle poking around here. Eric paid for two tickets and the vampire bowed thanking us theatrically. "Lady Letitia will be through soon to guide you through our museum of horrors and curiosities. Be prepared to see some ghastly delights showcasing two thousand years of occult rarities."

We entered the adjacent room featuring black velvet walls and blood red carpet. Large candles stood in the corners of the room on tall filigree wrought iron holders, casting their flickering glow throughout the room. Upon closer inspection, they weren't actual candles, rather plastic imitations with little LED lights. Creepy oil paintings took up most of the walls around us, poor knock offs of Hieronymus Bosch works. A number of other people had gathered and were waiting also, all clearly tourists. I hoped we blended in enough.

I pulled my phone from my purse and texted Eric: This is like the Fangtasia of museums

Breather tourist trap, his response buzzed my phone, and I nodded my agreement.

A few more wandered from off the street and soon there was a whole group of us waiting to be shown through the museum. Eric and I looked easily forty years younger than everyone else.

"So sweetheart," he drawled, strutting over to where I stood examining a painting of a drowning woman. "If this isn't the best place to spend our honeymoon then I don't know where is." He took me by the shoulders and embraced me, laying a hell-of-a kiss on my lips.

"What are you talking about?" I hissed as quietly as I could muster once we parted.

He wiggled his brows at me, squeezed my buttocks and mouthed the words 'under cover.'

"Right," I said with a dry laugh. A handful of ladies, all tanned to the point of lizard skin and wearing Hawaiian-print dresses, made 'aww' sounds to our right.

"Did you say honeymoon? Marjorie, look at these two love birds, they're on their honeymoon." The woman who spoke beamed at us. Her face was deeply wrinkled, but the majority of those were smile lines, and little wonder if she smiled that broadly normally. Marjorie, was not of a similar disposition and told her friend Liza, in the gravelly tones of a lifelong smoker, to quit being such a nosy poke.

"It's fine," I said as Eric tucked me under his arm.

"More than fine," he enthused.

"I was married for two decades and let me tell you, it ain't worth the hassle. Get out now, honey," the smoker-voiced Marjorie said to me.

Her friend Liza laughed, telling us to ignore her and peppered us with questions about our wedding.

"A huge church wedding," Eric said. "We spared no expense. Anything my wife wants, she gets."

I held myself back from gawping, or laughing, and decided to roll with it instead. "I arrived on a horse drawn carriage," I said. "I had a princess dress, with a train ten feet long. I needed two flower girls to carry it!"

"That sounds amazing," Liza said, her eyes bright.

"The reception was even grander," I continued. "A five-tier cake. A string quartet, and my little honey-bunny here serenaded me at the reception." From my periphery, I saw Eric's eyes widen. "He sang my favorite Whitney Houston number. It was the best day of my life."

"Night, darling," Eric corrected.

"Right, the best night of my life."

I saw them clock then that Eric was a vampire and suddenly Marjorie's estimation of my darling 'husband' rose considerably. Eric's flashed them both a winsome smile, fangs and all. Marjorie and Liza, and a few of the other tourists nearby just about scrambled over themselves to talk to him. I hadn't seen Eric schmoozing like this since his old Fangtasia days. I guess he missed playing to an adoring vampire-naive crowd. He caught my eye and winked, and began responding to their barrage of questions.

I smiled and took a good step back, only to see that the esteemed Lady Letitia had appeared. She was not at all what I expected. A short brunette with starkly blunt bangs and curvy frame, she wore a sleek velour red gown that hugged her buxom curves. The eyeliner on her heavily made-up face drew attention to her dark watchful eyes. She was older than I expected too, not old per se, but not exactly what I had assumed… I put her to be somewhere in her late 40s at the time of her turning.

"Good evening distinguished guests and seekers of the extraordinary," she announced, arms raised above her head. Her voice carried a distinct Texas twang. "I bid you a dark welcome to our abode of unearthly delights. I am your host, Lady Letitia, creature of the night, and I stand before you with an immortal thirst for adventure and knowledge. Join me as I bring you through time to visit history's darkest-most secrets and treasures." The crowd quickly forgot Eric, and we followed her through the maze-like museum, though it was a stretch to call it even that.

There were some interesting displays, an exhibit on medieval torture devices, some obviously fake 'cursed objects', and a mock electric chair that lit up, which everyone took turns sitting in to take photographs. Throughout, Letitia provided a constant stream of information and facts. She was by far the draw card for this entire venture. However, as we moved through the building, I quickly realized what Eric's little pony show in the waiting room had been all about. He was providing a distraction to the crowd so that I could question Letitia without difficulty.

We lingered in a room displaying supposed vampire relics from the 1300s where Eric distracted our group with a story about western Europe through that period as he had lived it. He resided in Gaul at the time, he told them. The story piqued my interest, though I had no doubt it was embellished, especially the parts about fighting a great battle alongside the then King, but I took my opportunity and pulled Letitia aside.

"I trust you are enjoying the evening?" she asked.

"You're a fantastic host," I said and honestly meant it. "We've just come from the The Museum of Opulent Arts and Antiquities and were told this was their sister site."

Her expression morphed with mild surprise. "We certainly are, though each site conveys a very different theme."

"Different target demographic, I would imagine, too."

She flashed a dazzling smile that was all for show and offered no real opinion one way or the other. I wondered briefly what she was like outside of the character she was currently playing.

"We're visiting from out of town with a friend of ours."

"Charming," she said, and I sensed she was ready to get back to the group, but I stepped back into her line of sight. "He's not here tonight, though he expressed a great desire to come… and see you."

"See me? A previous guest of ours here?"

"It's Bubba," I said, and her carefully contrived act dropped like a curtain falling from her face.

"Bubba? He's in town?" Where there had been charm in her voice only moments ago was now urgency.

"Yes. We're here trying to help him."

"Where is he?" she asked, and I saw her scan the faces in the crowd again.

"He's not here, I left him with Cassia."

Letitia's gaze darted across the room as if thinking of a way she could ditch her post, but with a quick shake of her head she rallied herself and smoothed her velveteen dress down across her curves. "I need to finish up here, but we'll talk in the next room."

She stepped past me and took control of the group again and we moved on to a space which displayed various vampire hunting paraphernalia.

"Well?" Eric asked as Letitia began describing the history of a wooden stake, carved from an opalized deposit of petrified wood found in far eastern Russia.

"Can you keep them happy a little while longer so I can keep talking to her?"

"As you wish," he said and dropped a quick kiss to my lips. He let Letitia finish her spiel before stepping back in and Letitia pulled me to the side.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's fine," I said, "but what on earth happened to him while he was staying here?"

"I have no idea. He was fine one day, and the next he was a walking disaster. Then I got dragged into working here. God, I miss him," she said. "Has he said anything about me?"

"He misses you badly, and has been moping around since he left here."

"He has?!" she cried with delight. She grabbed my hands and squeezed tightly. "Can you bring him here? I'm working till three." She darted a quick glance up and over her shoulder, and I spotted a camera up in the high corner of the room. "Maybe I can see him on my break later?"

"What time's your break?"

"Midnight." She fluttered her hands to fan her face and took a deep needless breath. "You know I watched him live at Rapid City, and he was incredible. His final show as a human."

"He's quite something else," I said, regarding her now with uncertainty. She was most definitely a fan of his. With a flourish she spun on her heel, back in character, and took command of the group, leading them into the next room. I let out a perplexed huff and trotted after them dutifully. This was going to take longer than I hoped with the constant interruptions. I checked my watch. Midnight was more than an hour away, it was either question her in dribs and drabs or wait.

The next room displayed occultic items, and as I perused what was on display nothing struck me of any note. It wasn't like I was expecting a neon sign pointing to the cursed item that afflicted Bubba (though who would know in this place), and besides, everything sat behind glass cases, inane and inert. What were the chances it was something here that cursed him, anyway? He had seemed certain that what had happened had occurred at the other museum.

Across the room, Eric began a story about an ancient tome stolen from a witch that would instill valor to the heart of a true warrior and how he had attempted to find it in the Black Forest of Prussia only to find himself having to fight off a black bear. It all sounded like complete BS to me, but he was buying me time, bless him.

"Do you have any idea where exactly Bubba was when he was cursed, or whatever it was that began happening to him?" I asked Letitia at the next opportunity.

"It was back at the other museum," she said and tucked her hair around her ear as she thought back. "We had worked a night like any other. It had been busier than usual, Cassia had been madder than usual."

"Why?" I asked, interrupting. "What was she mad about?"

Letitia scoffed. "Beats me. She thought I was distracted, like I'd get distracted on the job! And El—Bubba, well he was a real card that night, he kept cracking jokes and promised me he might sing for me later. By the way, did you ever know that he had his very first performance at the age of 10? Can you imagine that, getting up on stage and singing at age 10?"

"So, it was busy," I said, inserting myself over her stream of rolling dialog, "and Cassia was mad that you were distracted. Did anything unusual happen? Anything even slightly out of the ordinary occur?"

"Cassia getting mad is not out of the ordinary, let me tell you for one thing. She called Benedict, who came right out and—"

"Who's Benedict?"

"You would've met him at the front counter. Tall? Top hat? Stick up his ass?"

"Right, I think I met him," I said. "Why did she call Benedict?"

"She called him to come pick me up and, urgh," she rolled her eyes here, "he demanded I work here."

"Who is he to make demands on your employment?"

"He's my maker," she huffed. "Plus they own both places together. I'm just a part owner, a very small part at that. Before I know it, I'm stuck here working, Bubba's stuck there. And then Bubba calls to tell me everywhere he goes, things go haywire. He showed up in the middle of one of my shifts, in a tizzy, let me tell you, and the next thing you know two display cases are smashed and he broke an artifact. He was so devastated by this curse that's been put on him. And then he was gone, just took off with hardly a goodbye. I've been so worried. But Benedict told me not to worry." She looked at her watch. "Argh—I gotta get back to it. I'll need to start the next group soon."

She left me to resume her duties. I pulled my phone from my purse to send a text to Amelia asking how far away she was. I had no idea how long her magical work would take back at the other site, but if they wanted to get here for midnight they would have to skedaddle. I tried to call with no answer. I heaved a sigh and stowed my phone back in my purse. I looked up to see I was alone in the room, the group having moved on.

From the dark recesses of the doorway of the previous room, Benedict stepped through.

"Good evening," I said and made a move toward the next room, away from him.

"A moment of your time, miss," he said. I'll be honest, if he had called me 'ma'am' instead of 'miss' maybe I wouldn't have stopped for him. It had been a while since anyone had called me 'miss'.

"Yes?"

"You and your husband are quite the charming specimens."

I laughed uneasily. "Sure, if you say so."

"Can I ask what is it that you want of our esteemed hostess and tour guide Letitia?" I didn't like his stilted way of speaking, or the stuffy English accent. It sounded fake.

"Just a few questions…"

"About what?" he asked and took hold of my arm. It wasn't a painful grasp, but the glamor he pressed into my brain certainly was. I winced with the power of it and felt my knees sway like willow branches in the wind. I held his strange blue- and green-eyed gaze but somehow managed to withstand his influence. His glamor was more powerful than any I'd ever encountered before.

"A few questions about my friend," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Which friend?"

"Bubba." It was a whim to answer him with honesty, but Eric was only in the next room, I felt like I could reasonably stave off any calamity in the time it would take him to reach me.

"Bubba," he spat. "What is it about that defective vampire that wins people over?"

"That's not kind."

"Kind? What does that matter?" he said, and his fangs ran down. "Where is he?"

"He was in Louisiana, and now he's back here," I said.

"Back here and wreaking havoc, no doubt," he spat.

"What do you have against him?"

Eric wandered into the room, quite calmly, all things considered and came to my side. "I think it's best if you unhand her," he said matter-of-factly. I was kind of hoping for a guns blazing approach, but if Benedict complied then who was I to complain?

"I think it's best if you both leave my establishment and take Bubba far away," Benedict said and his grip on me tightened. That was too bad. Eric became rigid with anger.

"We're not taking him anywhere until we get to the bottom of what's happened to him," I said.

"I do not give one iota of a single shit for that vampire, let him be someone else's burden."

Eric's hand came down and clamped on Benedict's wrist.

"Let go of her. She is mine." His voice promised violence and pain.

"We shall see about that," Benedict said, swinging around to stare at him.

"I think Letitia cares for him a great deal," I pressed on. "Something has happened to Bubba and we want to help him."

"Are you going to make this a problem for me?" Benedict snarled. "If you do not leave this alone, then I will make this a problem for you." His strange gaze snapped back around to me. He tried to press his glamor onto me yet again. The intrusion felt like a violation, and I worked hard to resist it yet again. It was no easy feat, my brain throbbed and ached with the effort. Who was this guy? I tried to shake off his grasp of me.

"Let me go. We're only here to help."

"Help? No help is needed," he spat. "But I can see you will clearly be a problem."

I narrowed my gaze at him, anger shooting like sparks under my skin. This guy was in for it now. I looked over at Eric and faltered, his face was slack and free of expression.

"Eric?"

"Why do you resist my pull?" Benedict asked and pulled me closer to him with a rough tug, until we were eye to eye. I struggled in his grasp, both mental and physical, and turned to Eric.

He didn't respond, not a single twitch, movement or blink. He was so unnaturally still, he could've been a mannequin.

"Eric!"

"You resist glamour?" Benedict said to me, relinquishing his mental assault, and the second he let go of my mind, I gasped like I was starved of oxygen. "Very well. Rather than making you leave, I will make your master kill you."

"What do you mean?" I said and began tugging my arm out of his grasp.

"Kill her," Benedict said to Eric, his blue-green eyes unnaturally bright in the dim room and zeroed in on Eric. "Drain her. Your pet is no use to you anymore. Then take Bubba and leave the state."

He threw me down to the floor where I landed in a heap. Benedict stalked from the room, departing in the direction of Letitia and the guests. The door slammed and I heard the telltale click of a lock.

"Oh my god, he's insane," I said, rubbing my arm. Eric tilted his head to regard me, his expression still slack. "Eric… honey?"

His top lip curled, and his fangs descended with an audible snap. Comprehension shot through me like a bolt. Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea. Eric was glamored.