Below you'll find an excerpt from a work in progress, with the working title The Irish Vampire. Bear in mind, this one is in the early stages.
Brady opened the door to find the most beautiful woman he had ever seen gazing back at him. She was petite, with skin so fair it was pale. She had green eyes that sparkled in the porch-light and gorgeous, curly hair that was naturally red. She was slim, especially in the waist, with a tight but curvy derriere and breasts that filled and slightly strained her simple white blouse. But she wasn’t anybody he’d seen before.
“Can I help you?” Brady asked.
“I hope so.” The woman’s dialect went with her appearance; while the accent was somewhat watered-down with apparent years of travel, it was still unmistakably Irish. “I’m tryin’ t’ find the church parsonage. It’s so often next door t’ the church. Is this the parsonage?”
“Yes, it is. I’m the pastor, Brady Lundy. Can I help you?”
“I hope so, pastor. May I come in?”
Brady hesitated. “Um, can we meet over at the church? See, this is a small town, and the neighbors will talk about a single pastor having a beautiful woman in at this hour of the night.”
The woman looked as if she was about to weep. “I can’t go in the church, pastor. I’m a lost soul, and I can’t set foot in a church. I need to go into the parsonage, if we can.”
Brady hesitated. “Well …” Then he looked into those green eyes and his heart melted. “All right. If it’ll help you, lost soul, come on in.”
The woman sighed in apparent relief. “Oh, thank ya.” He held the door for her; somehow it seemed appropriate.
Brady sat down in his easy chair while the woman stood, fidgeting. Even so, her head was only a little bit higher than his.
“Do you have a name?” Brady asked.
The woman giggled nervously. “Oh, sure. It’s Maev.”
“Gaelic,” Brady said. “My parents were Irish, my dad fiercely so. And that’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank ya,” Maev said. Then she stood silently, back to fidgeting.
“So, you said you’re a lost soul. Obviously, you’re very troubled by something, and you want to talk about it. I’m ready to listen.”
“I doubt you’ll believe what you hear.”
“Tell me, and we’ll find out.” Brady amiled.
Maev looked the pastor in the face. “It’s just that I’ve needed to go to confession for so long, and I can’t talk to a Catholic priest, nor set foot in any church.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said you can’t go in a church. You know, I don’t know if you’re excommunicated in the Catholic Church or something, but anyone’s welcome in most Protestant churches, and I suspect the Catholics would take you back if you’re repentant.”
“It’s not that.” Maev stared at the floor. “It’s me. I physically can’t enter a church.”
Brady shook his head in confusion. “Is it some sort of phobia?”
“No. Y’see, I’m a vampire.”
Brady leaned forward at the words. “A vampire.”
“If you’ll forgive me, you don’t look or sound the part.”
“We’re not all Transylvanian nobility, nor are we all the smoldering, teen-angst types that y’see in movies or read about in books at the moment.”
“Well, I guess that would make sense.” Brady’s inflection betrayed his skepticism.
“Ya don’t believe me.”
“It is a rather far-fetched story.”
Suddenly Maev seemed to disappear in what Brady at first thought was a puff of smoke. As it surrounded him, he realized it was cold and damp — a mist, not smoke. From within it, as it surrounded him, he heard, in both ears at once, “D’ya believe me yet?”
Suddenly, the mist moved across the room and coalesced on the chandelier. Hanging from it, upside down, was a bat. The bat flipped over and landed gently on the floor, resuming the form of Maev. “I really don’t care for bein’ a bat. The mist is more … Celtic somehow.”
Brady’s eyes were darting back and forth as he thought. “That’s why you couldn’t come in until I invited you. Vampires can’t cross a threshold for the first time without permission.”
Maev simply nodded.