Death Dance will now release on April 21, 2026.

First, please accept my thanks for your kindness and support. (Also, for those just checking in, please accept my apologies for this change of scheduling.) It is truly appreciated. Dragon Her Heels was a wonderful book for me to write and share with all of you, but it wasn’t easy, especially as I needed to cram 50,000 extra words into the publication process. It was worth adding those words, but it was tough making sure the book came out on time.

I could have asked for Dragon Her Heels to release later, but the reality of the situation is this: when I do a holiday release like that, it’s SUPER important for me that I get that specific book out on time.

I have been told, by my readers, that sometimes, all that is getting them through the holidays is knowing there are new books out there they can escape into.

That is why I am so careful to put a book out on or right before December 25 every year.

This is not something I ever want to miss; I want my words (and affection for all my readers) to be there for those who do not get any other magic for the holidays. For those who have gaping holes of loss they fill with words, I want to offer that comfort and knowledge they have that escape into the pages.

As I said before, it’s important to me.

But, much to my detriment, I attempted to dive right into Death Dance immediately on the heels of Dragon Her Heels; this was a mistake. I needed the time off after that amount of extra hours, overtime, and stress. I didn’t give it to me. At least I DID recognize it was much needed.

So, for those of you who may have missed it, here is the first chapter, unedited drivel style, of Death Dance… and on its heels, the first chapter of Murder Floof. Please enjoy these two treats.

With luck, Murder Floof will be a surprise release mid year… and if luck isn’t with me, you will be getting a double feature for Christmas of 2026.

So, there’s your present: the next Bernadette Franklin novel IS coming, here is your confirmation it’s coming, and here’s some delicious tasting proof pudding for your enjoyment.

I am NOT doing a preorder for this book because while I absolutely adore the like ten whole people out there (I’m kidding, it’s more like twenty… hahaha also kidding, I know there are a bunch of you who love the books) it just isn’t a money maker for me, so a live drop when it’s ready is fine. I will slot it in whenever it’s fully done and ready to go. But, if I finish it next week… you’d get it next week. (Spoiler alert: it will not be next week or even within the next month. I’m not done writing it yet.)

Anyway, enjoy the treats.

Death Dance, Chapter 1, Unedited Drivel Style:

Chapter One

Rather than go on a date with my husband, I hunted a miscreant. Skipping out on our wining and dining would drive Emerick wild, as would the knowledge I had, for the first time since my turning, managed to stay up beyond dawn. My choice of breakfast had something to do with my determination to stay awake through the day.

Brandon Smith-Howards enjoyed raping his victims before draining them dry, and as such, I had no interest in fighting him. A sleeping vampire couldn’t lay fang nor finger on me.

Like I had before domestication, I drained the bastard of every drop of vile blood before separating his head from his body. To keep him from rising again, I removed the stake and poured holy water into the hole, which bubbled and frothed.

A silver radiance enveloped the corpse, and when it faded, all that remained was bone and ash. Then, as though the very ground recoiled at the thought of harboring his remains, his bones dissolved away to nothing, leaving me with only his head as proof of the kill.

Emerick would not appreciate me hauling home a miscreant’s head, but I needed to prove the bastard was dead and gone. I already possessed the evidence of his guilt, saving two of his victims.

I’d captured footage of the attacks on a pair of body cams, and I’d already submitted the evidence to the police.

Pleased with my hunt, I emerged from the bastard’s hiding spot in Central Park to bump into the last vampire I wanted finding me fresh from a hunt: my father.

Then, because my night could get worse, three men with striking resemblance to dear old dad waited nearby, and they regarded me with raised brows.

“In my defense, I have a severe allergy to rapists, and the only cure is their brutal murder.” I’d heard rumor of my brothers coming to town, but life as the Lowrance brood’s mistress had kept the awkward family reunion at bay. Rising to my feet, I displayed my prize for the quartet to see. “He tasted disgusting.”

Heaving a pained sigh, my father lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to his temple. His efforts wouldn’t spare him.

I had a way of giving the men in my life migraines.

“You do not have to drink them, Pepper,” my father scolded.

“Wasting blood should be a sin. And while I’m a questionably domesticated now, a wise woman never turns down free food. Anyway, I did not want this one getting back up, not with his preference of prey. I even stayed up late to take him out.” As I’d done a fabulous job of hunting for him, locating his hiding place, and taking him out, I gestured at the hole. “I triangulated this area to be his hunting grounds, and after I stole two of his meals, I tracked him back to here. I gave him two nights, during which I abused some police hotlines to keep the area patrolled so he wouldn’t be able to strike again. I waited for Emerick to go to sleep before leaving this morning, as he’s confident I cannot stay up past dawn no matter what. We’re supposed to go on a date this evening, but I have a feeling I’m going to miss it. We’ll probably survive. Once he finds out I went out in the sun without issue, he’ll even praise me for this morning’s questionable display of independence.”

At first, the sun had scared me, but after an hour of searching for the hole contained my prey, I’d relaxed and basked in its glow.

I suspected my purpose for being out in the day played a huge role in my ability to withstand the sun.

“Well, yes. You are notorious about sleeping soundly at dawn. I did warn him you would be able to walk under the sun with no problems. He only has himself to blame for your questionable display of independence.”

I snickered; Emerick would lose his mind the instant he woke up and discovered I had given him the slip during the morning. The witnesses to my departure had been so stunned to see me in my leathers and wearing my stakes to stop me, and they likely believed they hallucinated the whole thing. “Did my brothers beat you for your latest transgressions?”

“They tried. They are delightful little monsters. Once they worked their nerves out, as young things must do to be happy, they were content to delay their attempted murder of my person in exchange for meeting you. As you were not home and the guards seemed quite keen on having a babysitter with you, they told me you’d gone off hunting shortly after dawn. As they had the wisdom to ask for my advice, I suggested that they leave their grumpy master to his sleep. If you were trying to be stealthy, I’m going to have to rate your efforts poorly.”

“Stealth was not on my agenda today. Killing this bastard so he wouldn’t rape more women before killing them was. I have done my job well.” I wrinkled my nose, as my victim’s foul taste lingered. “He tasted vile.”

“Pepper,” my father chided.

“I am only partially domesticated, and there is zero point in wasting perfectly edible blood.”

“You do not need to hoard supernatural strengths, young lady. And that is exactly what you are going to do if you keep insisting on draining every miscreant you cross paths with.”

I dismissed his opinion with a wave of my hand. “Complain, complain, complain. If he hadn’t wanted to lose his head and his blood, he wouldn’t have been raping and killing women.”

“She makes a good point, Dad,” one of my brothers, who had come out of the family cloning vat with the greatest success, stated, and he grinned at me. “I’m Eugene. When Dad said we had a sister, we honestly tried to beat him for lying to us. This old goat only throws boys, and for some reason, most vampires only have sons.”

“Sons are quite vexing,” my father informed me in a solemn tone. “You are far prettier, more elegant, and cunning than these disgraces ever will be.”

It amazed me that I had no problems determining my father told many lies, and he did so with affection. “Your children might not attempt to kill you as often if you stop annoying them. You’re getting a pass for being an annoyance on grounds of general appreciation of my ongoing existence. I might even get you a nice mug that even acknowledges you’re a decent father some of the time.”

“Don’t even think about it, boys,” my father warned.

All three of my brothers scowled.

“All right. I only know of Eugene because Emerick knows him. Who are you two?” I asked, marveling how three men could appear so much like their father; hair color and eye color distinguished them, which appeared to be the only traits inherited from their mothers.

I, on the other hand, had emerged a little clone of my mother with only one trait inherited from my father: vampirism.

It had taken a few months, but I had grown to be rather grateful for that sole inheritance.

“I am Alisander, and I was born during the Middle Ages and I’m the eldest of my father’s surviving children. Like you, I hunt those who have strayed. Dad likes telling people I’m younger than I am to trick them into complacency. Generally, I carry on the tradition of pretending to be younger than I am. To him, I will always be a little baby.”

I crossed my eyes at the thought of my father being a doting parent who treated his eldest living son in such a way. “I will do my best to stake you if you even try to treat me like I’m your little baby girl, Father.”

“You’re an attorney. That makes you a shark perfectly willing to bite me in the face,” he retorted.

I gasped. “I do not bite people in the face! I go for the throat, thank you. It’s much easier to get the blood flowing from the throat, and I don’t want to waste any of my breakfast. Please. Maybe some attorneys are rather like sharks, but I do have some manners when I eat.”

“Alisander, please try to teach your sister some better habits when hunting. We will not stop her from her rather distasteful habit of not wasting blood, but at least we can improve her skills.”

I pointed at the hole. “I handled that just fine. He is dead, and I didn’t even get a scratch. Well, outside of opening the hole enough to wiggle inside so I could stake him before draining him, decapitating him, and pouring holy water onto his heart so he wouldn’t bother anyone again. I wasn’t really expecting him to go to ash from that, but I’ll take it. Why did he dissolve?”

“You destroyed his heart, and the magic that made him unraveled,” my father explained.

Alisander crouched and peered into the vampire’s den. “Is she hunting on pure instinct, Dad?”

“She is.”

My older brother whistled. “I’ll do what I can to help you, Pepper.”

I considered the middle of the three brothers. “And you?”

“I’m Benoit. My mother was French, and she passed during labor.” Before I could react, he waved his hand. “She had an illness my father did not know about, one that made her more likely to die during childbirth. She had, in passing, mentioned that she loved the named Benoit, because she thought it was a strong, beautiful name, so he gave it to me. My mother is the only woman my father technically wed; he realized she would likely not survive, and he wanted her to be viewed with honor by her family, so he pulled some strings, wed her, and had some friends state they had been wed since before my conception.” Benoit’s smile possessed a sharp edge, which he turned on our father. “You’re a sentimental old man, and you can’t trick us. You may have tricked our sister, but we will teach her your ways.”

“I have irritated your brothers for I did not introduce you to them immediately. I only started gathering them when word that the ball is to be delayed due to the successful turning of twenty women in the attending bride broods.”

Color me not surprised. “That damned ball is going to be the death of me, I swear. I am quite pleased that the ball will have the wedding ceremony, but trying to arrange a date is turning into a complete nightmare. That the bride broods were able to turn women is wonderful, but you neglected to mention that all of the turnings were of elderly partners of ancient vampires, and we’re only delaying so they can attend—and three of those women are in my brood!”

When I’d first become matron of the brood, I hadn’t known how many of the men had mortal wives close to death. Upon finding out, I’d negotiated for the three in the most danger to undergo being turned, handled by her husband with backing from Emerick, myself, and Mistress Avalon.

The turnings had gone without incident, and the women settled into their new lives with their husbands in our brood, going to the bride broods for training. I’d run risk of pacing holes in the floor while we waited for each to awaken. Per the brood’s tradition, she’d been laid to rest in our bed. In a new twist, her husband waited at her side.

I didn’t want to imagine their fear, waiting to see if their love would continue into an eternity or if all hope would die with the setting of the sun.

“Eugene, you are going to have your work cut out for you, especially should you decide to merge your brood with young Emerick’s. It is a good deal for you, and you will be in a position where you do the most good with the least stress. And don’t think you can trick me. I do not know how you turned out as you did, a nurturing spirit who would rather work in the background for the better of others. Really.”

Without missing a beat, Eugene engaged our father in a staring competition and answered, “You are the reason I turned out as I did.”

My father sighed. “Do I look like a nurturing father figure who would encourage such awful things?”

“Yes,” my brothers replied.

“Nonsense. Pepper, don’t listen to these silly sons of mine. They’re insufferable, really. Take them home with you. And do have one of them carry that nasty head. Did you have to keep it?”

“Yes. This nasty head is worth three million dollars.”

Eugene whistled. “I’d be keeping the head in that case, Dad. Why is this one worth so much?”

“He’s a rapist serial killer,” Alisander answered. “He’s been hunting the eastern seaboard for a decade, and he has over a hundred counts, quite possibly more that we don’t know about. You would have been an ideal target for him, Pepper.”

I nodded. “That’s why I stayed up past my bedtime for a morning snack. He never hunts near dawn or dusk, so I assumed he was finding somewhere to shelter. Once I narrowed down his general location, I decided to have a rather disgusting breakfast. I’ll have a proper dessert to make up for that nastiness later.”

My father sighed. “You’re never going to stop calling your husband dessert, are you?”

“I’m really not. Hey, since I have you here anyway, I could actually use a favor from you.”

My father raised a brow. “What do you need?”

“I need to find a donor car for his daughter. She’s a Beetle, and she’s in very sad shape.” As hunting often involved a great deal of waiting, I kept a little card with his daughter’s vital statistics on it. “She’s a 1938, which means she’s ridiculously rare. His daughter was the first they ever made of her, and that means I’m absolutely fucked trying to find parts!” I thought about flinging the bastard’s head across the park, but I resisted the urge. “I had no idea just how insane his daughter is until I started looking for donor cars for her. Do you know what’s impossible to get? A donor car for a 1938 Volkswagon Beetle. Clearly, I know nothing about cars, because I thought she was cute and just needed a bath and some love from me, her new mother. My daughter is a pain in my ass!”

My father burst into laughter, stepped over, and kissed my forehead. “All right. I will see if I can find another 1938 to sacrifice to your new child. If I can’t find one, you’re actually in luck, as one of my vampires is a machinist and can make the parts you need.”

Relief washed through me. “Really?” I dug out the card detailing my daughter’s various ailments, and I handed it over. “Here is the current diagnosis list. I had to stand there for three hours while Emerick cried over the state of our daughter. I’ll confess, I found a 1938, but she’s in good working order, and I refused to hurt her. She is our second daughter now. That leads me to my next problem.”

“You need someone to teach you how to how to drive it,” he guessed in a rather unimpressed tone.

“You can drive me home in it if you like, but if we get a single drop of blood in her interior, somebody dies. That somebody might be you. My brothers can cram in the back. We’ll emerge like vampiric clowns, defying the vehicle’s available space.”

At the rate my father kept sighing, I would drive him insane before the day was through. “Where is she parked?”

“I’m hiding her at Master Kennwick’s house in his garage. I have his number, and I even brought my phone with me. She has a full tank of gas, and she just had everything tuned and checked, so she should be good for a drive.”

“Very well, I will drive you home. Kennwick surely has a bag or box we can stuff that head in.” My father tossed Alisander a set of keys. “You can even keep the car once we’re done tonight, but no complaining that I’m making you fetch it. Let’s not test your sister when it’s her first time walking under the sun.”

“Sweet. You’re okay with ditching your car?”

“I just gave your sister a Jaguar, so it’s your turn to be shown a scrap or two of parental affection. I’m going to be busy doing other things, and I won’t need some prissy little street princess. I acquired a rather nice pickup for myself.”

Both Eugene and Benoit licked their lips.

“It seems my brothers are split into two camps. The younger ones seem to like manly pickups. The older one wants prestige and horses.”

“I was a baby when he gave me my first horse, and I suffered from the need for speed ever since,” Alisander told me with a grin, and he spun the fob and keys around his finger. “His pavement princess is currently an Alfa Romeo, and she’s basically a family car that forgot she’s a family car and tried to be a racer. She’s a family car with racing aspirations. I love her, and I’ll treat her better than he will.”

I remembered the Alfa Romeo; I’d seen it a few times over the years, although I hadn’t really placed it as my father’s car. “Oh, the cherry red one that complains if he holds her back because she wants to go but it’s not really legal to drive her almost two hundred on city streets?”

“Yes, that’s her. He’s taken you out in her?”

“I’m pretty sure that bastard bought that car on my eighteenth birthday but kept it for himself.” I eyed my father.

“You have unfortunately good memory.”

I put some serious thought into throwing Brandon Smith-Howards’s head at my father. Once again, I resisted the urge, settled with a pained sigh, and shook my head. “You are lucky that my Jaguar has been adopted by the entire brood. They love her. You’re also lucky Emerick got me a purple Toyota to learn in, else the entire brood would be stricken with sadness. I am not allowed to touch the Jaguar until I am proficient behind the wheel. I’m learning in the Toyota. I broke his heart with that stunt. He’s a Honda man.”

My father laughed. “I have seen pictures of you with your Toyota. You were quite excited when you picked it up. I believe your Emerick hoped to offend me with the vehicle, but he has not yet learned I am a doting father, and that means safety comes first.”

“I am never going to get used to the idea that you’re a doting father,” I informed him. “But I will give you a slightly better mug for driving my Beetle home, though. I want to see Emerick’s face when you pull into the parking garage and we pile out of his car’s twin like a bunch of vampiric clowns.”

“One day, I will understand your sense of humor. Today is not that day. Eugene, take that nasty head from your sister before she tries to see if there is any blood left in it. Alisander, if you could go get the car sometime today?”

“I want to see if she tries to kill you.”

When my father glared at my brother, I laughed. “Not today. Tonight, perhaps, if he doesn’t treat my new little baby with the love and care she deserves.”

Murder Floof, Chapter 1, Unedited Drivel Style

Author Note: Yes that is a kitten on a stripper pole, and if that doesn’t showcase my style of humor, I don’t know what does. Also, yes, we went way over the top on EVERYTHING about this cover, and I love it.

I. Love. It.

Chapter One

The last thing I needed in my life was a cat, but the murder floof taking over my kitchen hadn’t gotten the memo. I blamed the ridiculously early hour for her successful invasion. Had my mother waited until sometime after dark thirty, I would’ve been awake enough to use my favorite word: no.

No, I didn’t want a cat.

No, I didn’t have time for a cat.

No, I had no idea how to take care of a cat.

No, no, no.

Under no circumstances did I need or want a murder floof eating through my savings account and shedding fur over my house.

“I don’t like cats, Murder Floof,” I announced.

Murder Floof ignored me.

How typically cat-like of her.

Why had my mother thought it was a good idea to dump a kitten with me? Had I forgotten her birthday again? From the day I’d been born, I’d been incapable of remembering my mother’s birthday. I could see my mother inflicting a kitten on me as punishment for being a terrible daughter.

My mother had started breeding cats the day after I’d abandoned ship and moved out. She claimed she’d found her new calling in life. I wisely neglected to inform her she suffered from a midlife crisis and appeased her psychosis through cats she loved more than life itself.

Murder Floof chomped at the wet food I had given her as a distraction. Once finished, would the kitten try to kill me? What did I need to do to keep the kitten from killing me?

I checked my phone, which informed me I’d been in possession of a kitten for two hours. Frowning, I dialed my mother’s number.

“What is it, Brandy? I was just over there.”

“There’s a cat in my kitchen, Mom.”

“Yes, there is. It’s about time you took care of a living thing other than yourself, and Sparkles needed a home. I can’t keep Sparkles. Sparkles is a perfectly good Maine Coon, and she’ll take good care of you.”

“Her name isn’t Sparkles. It’s Murder Floof. It’s Murder Floof because she’s obviously plotting my demise.”

“You can name your cat whatever you want, but remember you need to take Murder Floof to the vets, which means you have to admit to other people you named your kitten Murder Floof.”

“Why do I have a kitten? I don’t even like cats. You tricked me. You came over and tricked me. You tricked me at dark thirty. You’re the crazy cat lady. I’m the sensible woman of the family.”

“Yes. That’s a part of my job description. I gave birth to you, so I must spend the rest of my life tricking you into doing things you don’t like. Nurturing a young kitten will be good for you. You spend too much time at home alone.”

Why hadn’t I fled to a different state rather than moving less than an hour away from my childhood stomping grounds? I could afford to move to another state. With my degree, I could probably escape to a different country.

I pointed at Murder Floof despite being aware my mother couldn’t see me. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to never to give your child a pet as a present? It never ends well. That’s how pets end up in shelters, Mom.”

“As I know you are utterly incapable of dumping a pet at a shelter or mistreating one, you’re being dramatic. Murder Floof needed a home. You were chosen. You should be honored you have been chosen.”

“Mom, you breed Maine Coons. You breed ridiculously expensive Maine Coons people expect to show off in competitions. Why do I have this cat?”

“Her tail isn’t fluffy enough, her fur is coming in shorter than prissy asshole buyers like, and while she’s got great coloration, she’s just not going to be any good for showing. Most want male gingers, and some people have a foolish misbelief that female gingers aren’t as healthy as male ones. That’s nonsense, by the way. Male gingers are more common because of genetics, so only twenty percent of female cats have the appropriate genetics for a ginger coat. Anyway, she’ll be happier with you. She’ll make a good guard cat. You said you wanted an alarm system. I, in my endless generosity, have provided one.”

My mother had lost her damned mind. “It’s customary to give cats to people who want cats.”

“You want this cat. You are just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Mom, what am I going to do with a cat?”

“Love her, obviously. Just look at her. She’s a precious angel in need of your adoration. I bet she’ll read books with you and keep your lap warm. Just give Murder Floof a chance.”

“To what? Kill me?”

Murder Floof inhaled her breakfast without stopping to breathe. I eyed the case of food, debating opening another can to keep her happy for another few minutes.

“She’s not going to kill you. She’s going to eat at alarming intervals, grow like a weed, use her litter box with enthusiasm and spread litter all over your floor, and otherwise sink her tiny little claws into your soul. If you make her wear her harness for a few minutes every day, she’ll even take you on walks. You’re always complaining you want to go on more walks. Go take Murder Floof on walks. Oh, just a word of advice, if I may?”

I fear what my mother would tell me, but I sighed and replied, “What is it, Mom?”

“Don’t be alarmed should she climb on your shoulder. She enjoys tall places. I’ll get her a cat tree if it will limit your whining.”

“I’m protesting over the fact that you tricked me into accepting this furry death machine into my home!”

My mother laughed at me. “In good news, your furry death machine won’t cost you a lot of money. I’m paying for her vet bills until she’s done her vaccinations, I brought you enough food to last you a month, and you have all the litter you need, also for a month.”

“What you’re telling me is that you’ve tricked me into the life-long care of a furry death machine through the use of trickery and the illusion of a good deal.”

“Yes.”

Even when I hated my mother, I loved her. “You are the jerkiest jerk to have ever jerked.”

“I know. So, what can I do for you? You obviously called for a reason other than to yell at me for giving you the love of your life.”

“You gave me a cat.”

“Exactly. Let’s face facts here, baby girl. She’s the closest you’re getting to having a love of your life. Be grateful I’ve given up all hope of welcoming a son to the family. As such, I’ve given you a kitten. I’ve accepted your lack of interest in men, women, or other, so I did the only thing I could. I have a grandkitten now. And she’s the sweetest grandkitten to ever kitten. I’ll concede her new name is Murder Floof, but her middle name is Sparkles.”

My mother had truly lost her damned mind. “Murder Floof Sparkles Levint? That’s ridiculous.”

“I’ll bring over a second month worth of her food if you accept her strange name with grace.”

Murder Floof finished eating her food and went to work cleaning her face, purring loud enough I could hear her over my mother’s snickering. “Six months of food, six months of litter, and you will buy all the toys and extras Murder Floof needs to be convinced she shouldn’t kill me in my sleep tonight.”

“I’ll bring over some toys and presents for my grandkitten tonight. If you’re working today, she’ll be fine on her own while you’re gone.”

“Why do I have a cat, Mom?”

“Because I love you, you’re a nice person who will take good care of her, and you need a little adventure in your life. I’m doing you a favor. You just haven’t realized it yet. When you do, I’ll be a good mother and resist the urge to gloat.”

“You really are the jerkiest jerk to have ever jerked, Mom.”

“Love you, too. Have a good day at work.”

My mother hung up, and I set my phone on my kitchen counter so I wouldn’t be tempted to fling it at the wall. “Well, it looks like it’s you and me, Murder Floof.”

Murder Floof sat on my foot and purred.

* * *

My neighbor’s old, rusty SUV spluttered to a halt in her driveway, and thick smoke poured from the engine. I pulled my phone from my purse and took a few pictures, debating if I wanted to offer to help my cranky little old lady of a neighbor.

The last time I’d spoken to her, a week ago to the day, I’d dealt with a tirade about how my grass had been a centimeter too long for her liking, lowering her property value by at least a hundred dollars. According to her, my mother was a whore, my father was a three-legged dog, and I was a thing to be pitied—and corrected at every opportunity.

The smoke thickened. Without a care in the world, my neighbor got out of her SUV and headed for her front door.

Flames licked over the hood.

I switched to video mode and pressed the record button.

For a little old lady who hated everyone in the neighborhood and couldn’t tolerate any disorder, she was remarkably stoic about her vehicle catching on fire and burning in her driveway.

If I let it go unchecked, my house might burn down, and that would sour my day even more than having invited a furry murderer into my home. Sighing, I stopped recording and called the police.

“9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?” a woman asked.

“My neighbor’s SUV has caught on fire in her driveway.”

There was a slight pause. “What is your name, your address, and your phone number, ma’am?”

I gave her the information. Something banged inside the SUV, and the flames intensified to an inferno.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

“The SUV seems to have opinions. I’m fine, but I’m not sure if her house is going to be fine if that gets any worse. Her SUV was smoking when she parked, and she got out and went into her house—”

The little old lady emerged from her door with her shot gun, pointed it at her SUV, and opened fire.

“—and that would be her opening fire with her shotgun on her SUV. I am back inside my house, and frankly, I’m going to hide in my basement with my kitten for the rest of the day.” I stepped into my house, closed and locked the door, and wondered how I’d get to work. Or I’d go hide in the basement, which was empty, made of concrete, cold, and rather uncomfortable. Was a crazy lady next door a valid excuse to miss work?

Screw it. I’d use one of my prized personal days, and if my boss asked why I needed one in the middle of crunch time, I’d text her the picture I’d taken along with the short video clip.

Murder Floof scampered down the hall and collided with my leg. She purred and pawed at me.

“I’m dispatching someone to your location, ma’am.” She read me the riot act on how to avoid the crazy little old lady armed with a shotgun, advice I fully intended to listen to.

I just hoped the cops were able to deal with my neighbor. Personally, I thought they’d need a miracle. It typically took a miracle to send demons back to hell where they belonged.

Or a priest.

Unfortunately, I was fresh out of stock on miracles and priests, so I settled with wishing the police the best of luck, got permission to end the call, and sighed. I picked up my kitten, and her purrs intensified. “Looks like it’s you, me, and the crazy lady next door today, Murder Floof.”

While tempted to go to the basement, which had started its life several hundred years ago as a root cellar. I sat on my kitchen floor, which seemed like a tolerably reasonable place to call my boss, as I didn’t get reception in my basement. My boss wouldn’t be happy, but at least I had a good excuse for a change.

I called her, hoping it would go to voice mail.

No such luck. My boss answered and asked, “What’s up, Brandy?”

“Remember how I told you I live next door to a crazy old lady who is probably a demon in disguise?”

“It’s too early in the week for this.”

“Her SUV is on fire in her driveway, and she opened fire on it with her shotgun.”

“It’s definitely too early in the week for this.”

“I’m not sure I like my job enough to try getting to my car while she’s armed and taking offense to her vehicle. Did I mention her vehicle is on fire?”

“You did. So, I take it you’re not coming into work today?”

“I’m thinking I’m going to sit on my kitchen floor and play with my new kitten. Also, do you want to see a picture of the SUV on fire? I took one. There’s a short video clip, too.”

“Kitten? What kitten? You don’t like cats, Brandy.”

“My mother showed up, woke me up, and tricked me into accepting a cat. She had named her Sparkles. I have renamed her Murder Floof, but her middle name is Sparkles.”

My boss sighed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you’re pulling my leg to stay home from work today, but I’m really concerned there’s really a—”

Something banged from the general direction of my neighbor’s house.

“I don’t know if that’s more gunfire or if my neighbor’s SUV exploded,” I admitted. “In good news, I called the cops before I called you.”

“I would normally tell you to enjoy your day off, but I have a feeling you’re not going to. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“If I work from home, do I get to keep my paid time off?”

“Think you can do any work looking into the insurance firm Mr. Tomkaps is interested in acquiring?”

I foresaw a very expensive disaster. Who was I to tell anyone the CEO had lost his mind? Oh well. All I needed to do was my job. As long as I did my job, everything would work out okay. Probably.

“I can start the basic research, sure. The public stuff, that is. I can probably build a contact list of past employees and rivals to get intel on them, too. Rivals will love if they can unsettle the firm. We’ve never made any moves into the insurance sector before,” I replied. In a few hours, I’d be able to pull together a general portfolio of the insurance firm. At the same time, I’d create portfolios of competitors to give my boss an opportunity to talk the CEO out of his harebrained idea.

The CEO was so crazy I’d never met the man before because my boss wanted to keep me. I figured his odd genius lurked beneath a face uglier than sin as there wasn’t a single photograph of him anywhere.

If it weren’t for my boss insisting she had a boss, I wouldn’t even believe our firm had a CEO.

“Do it, and I’ll mark you as working from home today. If asked, I’ll notify them you were unable to leave your house due to a situation. I’d say your neighbor opening fire with a shotgun counts.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

“You’re welcome. Try not to make this a habit. In fact, if this becomes a habit, I’ll put you in touch with one of the company real estate agents so you can get out of that neighborhood.”

I laughed. “I might take you up on that offer if this isn’t a one-off situation.”

“Take care and stay safe. Keep me updated on your crazy neighbor. Oh, and Brandy?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually name your kitten Murder Floof.”

“I really did. She looks like a little ball of fluffy orange and white death.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“For me or for Murder Floof?”

“You know what? Both of you.”

I sighed. “I’m not that bad!”

“Brandy, you’re a wonderful woman and a great employee, but when I look in the dictionary at the word loner, you’re pictured. Try not to take too much offense to your kitten sharing space with you.”

Some battles I wouldn’t win, so I wrinkled my nose and opted for a painless surrender. “I’ll do my best.”

“Stay safe, don’t forget to keep me updated on what’s going on, and if you don’t get any research done because you’re playing with your new kitten, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Thanks, Mary. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My boss hung up, and I returned my phone to my purse. With a lack of anything else to do, I patted my kitten’s head.

She viewed being pet as an invitation to play, and she attacked my hand with her razor-sharp claws and her teeny tiny teeth. All in all, I expected being lit on fire and shot would hurt less.

“You’re the devil.”

As expected, the kitten didn’t care, continuing her painful assault on my hand. And, fool that I was, let her have her way so she wouldn’t expand her targets to my eyes and other sensitive places.

* * *

Several hours after my neighbor shot up her SUV, someone knocked on my door. I tried to convince Murder Floof to check who, but my kitten had no interest in interrupting her nap to save me from unwanted invaders.

“You’re almost as much of a jerk as my mother.”

The unwanted invaders knocked again, and I headed for the door, peeking through the peep hole to confirm my neighbor wasn’t about to add me to her list of victims for the day.

A pair of cops waited on my doorstep, which eliminated ignoring them in favor of hiding with my kitten. Sighing, I cracked open the door. “Has she finished shooting things and lighting them on fire?”

The officers exchanged uncertain glances, which I assumed it meant trouble. I waited for the pair, middle-aged men who seemed ready to go home and give up on the day, to break the silence.

“Not exactly,” one replied, and he sighed. “We’re uncertain if the fire from her property will spread to yours. For safety reasons, we’d like you to vacate the premises until the fire department handles the situation next door.”

I leaned out my front door. Sure enough, my neighbor’s house burned, and the flames devoured the roof. “That’s just delightful.”

“In good news, should the fire spread, you’ll have a simple claim process. You’ll be able to reference the police report, which will absolve you of any responsibility.”

Well, that was something. “All right. How much time do I have?”

“Don’t take long, please.”

I sighed, nodded, and retreated into my home. Fortunately, my mother had left a cat carrier for Murder Floof, who protested my cruel containment of her furry person with sad wails. I put her in my car and decided I’d just get her another litter box if necessary. I ferried enough food to appease her for a week, grabbed the few toys my mother had brought over, and hoped it would keep the kitten from killing me in my sleep.

As I had no idea if I’d be sleeping in my house, I gave the police my cell phone number so they could notify me if my house burned down and went on a quest for a hotel that would welcome a kitten.

I parked my car across the street from my house behind one of the patrol cars to watch my neighbor’s place burn while I made phone calls. 

It didn’t take me long to figure out my search wouldn’t end well for my wallet. In good news, I found a place near my work. In bad news, I couldn’t leave Murder Floof in the room unattended, which meant if I stayed for any period of time, she would have to go to work with me.

Ten minutes after making my reservation but before I left, my neighbor’s house exploded, and flaming chunks of roof and wall rained down.

Most of the debris missed my car, but my house wasn’t as fortunate. My roof came down with a serious case of on fire, I’d need new windows, and it wouldn’t surprise me if I had nothing but rubble within a few hours. When I’d purchased the place, I’d been hopeful an ancient brick and stone house could withstand anything. To immortalize the moment my neighbor had finally gotten her ultimate revenge on me for my poor lawn-care skills, I took pictures.

Then I called my boss.

“How are things going, Brandy?” my boss answered.

“My neighbor’s house just exploded, and now my house is wearing a flaming hat. It’s not a good look for it. But hey, since it can’t all be bad, the police told me I’d get a police report that would absolve me of responsibility in the destruction of my house.”

“Are you all right?”

“The police suggested I should relocate until they contained the fire, but it seems the fire had different ideas. I don’t know what she was doing in her house, but whatever it was, it was explosive.”

My boss sighed. “How many days are you going to need to handle your matters?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Can I bring my kitten to work? The hotel I’m in won’t let me leave her there unattended. My mother swears she’s well-behaved.”

“Brandy, she’s a kitten. Please tell me you don’t actually think your kitten will behave.”

“A woman can dream, can’t she?”

“Sure, Brandy. Whatever you say. I’ll talk to the boss and tell him about your house situation and see if I can get an exemption for you to bring your kitten to work. Keep me in the loop on what’s going on.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

“Try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day. This is bad for my blood pressure. Also, would you like me to contact one of your realtors about a new home somewhere safer?”

I shook my head, and as I had a choice between laughing or crying, I laughed. “I’ll try but no promises. I’ll call you later with an update on the situation. I’ll think about the realtor.”

After hanging up on my boss, I sighed and watched the firefighters battle the flames determined to consume my house. After an hour, they won the war, although I’d need a new roof, my living room would never be the same, and my insurance company would have a field day with my neighbor’s destruction of my property.

Maybe I’d encourage the CEO to take over some insurance firms. I might be able to get a new policy—one that wouldn’t penalize me for having a crazy old lady living next door.