Page 47 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

“Pleasure to meet you too,” I tell Ramona. “I love your dress.”

She does a twirl and the fringe on the skirt twirls. “It belonged to Norma Shearer. She wore it to the premiere of The Mummy in 1932. As an aside, The Mummy was not a hit with the critics but was considered a modest box office success. I do believe we have a prop from the set around here somewhere. Oh, where did I—”

“Ramona,” Bran says. “We’re here for a dress. Not a movie prop.”

She pouts at him, but quickly recovers and twirls away. “Very well! What sort of dress?”

“One from the fae collection.”

She pauses at the Archive doors, hands on the curved handles. “It must be a special night?”

“Jessie needs to look like a fae queen.”

“Say no more.”

She gives the doors a wider push, revealing what’s inside.

When I step over the threshold and into the Archive, I look around and gasp.

I’m not sure what I expected. A department store dressing room? A closet crammed with old garments?

It’s none of that.

It’s a fucking ballroom with glass-topped cabinets like in a museum, and racks of clothing, and printer’s cabinets with thin drawers for documents.

More cabinets line the walls with drawers on the bottom and glass doors on the top, revealing a wide array of treasures beneath soft inset lighting. Feathered hats and giant jeweled necklaces and carved stone objects.

“Holy shit,” I breathe out.

“Holy shit yes!” Ramona claps her hands again and her short legs cart her off down an aisle, and the archives quickly swallow her up. “This way!”

Bran gives me a nudge. I head in the direction Ramona disappeared, weaving through the clothing racks. There are sequined dresses and pantsuits and dresses with pearls sewn into the bodice.

Does Kelly know about this place? She would lose her mind.

We finally come up on another door in the recess of the archive. It’s also arched like the main doors, but smaller in scale. A shaft of light pools at the threshold, warm and inviting.

I enter to find a room done in rich wood paneling. There are built-in cabinets and drawers in a circle around the space, with a sitting area directly to the right of the door.

In the center of the room are five dress forms displaying the most dazzling garments I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“It just keeps getting better,” I say like a huge dork, even though I’m not the least bit enamored with fashion.

Bran sits on the velvet settee the color of dawn and props his elbow on the gilded gold arm, curling his hand around his face.

If we were anywhere else, in any other clothing store, he would look like a bored boyfriend waiting for his girlfriend to finish shopping. But even bored, I know he’s watching, calculating, waiting.

Bran is always playing a game.

I can only imagine what card he has up his sleeve now.

Ramona goes to the third dress on the left and pulls delicately at the skirt. A rainbow of gemstones glimmer beneath the light. “This would fit her beautifully and—”

“No,” Bran says, cutting her off.

“No? Okay. We have this purple one with the emeralds in the–”

“No,” Bran says again.

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