A Vampire Christmas Carol by Sarah Gray

By Sarah Gray

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But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! He was hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire, secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin.

The gentleman had a cheerful face, still possessing two rows of white teeth, and bright hazel eyes that reached out with compassion. Belle worked her chilly hands before the fire, as if by warming the flesh, she could warm her heart. “We were once engaged to be married, Mr. Scrooge and I. ” She smiled at the memory of it. ” Ginsby asked. ” She gazed over her shoulder to him. ” “But . . ” She exhaled. ” “Never bitten him? Then how . ” He let his sentence drift into silence, sensing she needed a moment before telling the tale.

Unaware there were vampires so near, the carol singer’s lusty voices filled the air: “Born the King of—” “That sound,” Griselda cried, clasping her hands over her head. “Sweet Hades! That sound! It makes my brain ache. ” “Griselda. ” Wahltraud halted, covering her hands with his and hushing her. He gazed into her black, heartless eyes. “When on the streets, you must take care not to draw attention to yourself. Remember that incident at King’s Cross last year? We ended up with twenty-seven bodies to dispose of.

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