Page 14 of You’re So Vein

Isis rubs her hands together. “Oh, that’s gooood.”

The village has a festival or event every month of the year, except November. We once planned a delightful Jane Austen weekend, but that got cancelled after an unfortunate series of murders (Mina unmasked the killer, but the festival was doomed). That was replaced with a Shakespeare festival that also ended in murder.

We’re a British village, okay? Murder is part of our rustic charm.

After that, Richard at the pub tried to start an annual meat pie and cider competition, but one of his stills exploded, causing a small flood on the green and making the entire village smell like cider for at least a year. We’re still paying off the EA violations.

The council forbade any village club, business, or religious order from holding an event, festival, tombola, bake sale or fundraiser during the cursed month of November.

My papa’s international food festival was planned for June, too. Not even my jolly father would risk a curse.

But I can fix it. I can create a festival so wonderful, so unique, so utterly, quintessentially Argleton that it will break the November curse.

“The new festival will be a guaranteed success!” I cry.

“Yes, and what will the new festival be?” Beth leans forward. “It has to be something special.”

“It shouldn’t alienate the vampire community,” Arabella adds.

“And if it could involve the bookshop in some way…” Mina adds. “And maybe a sculpture—”

“Croak!” adds the raven.

“I maaaybe don’t have an idea for the festival yet, but I’m working on it. For the vampires, I’ve got solving the huskings, and maybe some vampire-friendly shopping hours—”

“Augustin beat us to it,” Maisie points out.

“He did, damn him.” I tap my chin as I consider options. “I know! What if we went one better and made a local village app? It would include an interactive map of the village with businesses and historical sites highlighted. It would also be useful for announcements and getting people involved in civic affairs. As part of the app, we could build in tools that will be useful for our Upyr residents, like a sunset calendar. Maybe it could even have a shopping function where vampires order online at local businesses, and the Thralls could pick up items in the morning. They wouldn’t have to leave the estate.”

Arabella nods in approval. “Our members would love that.”

“Wouldn’t an app be expensive to make?” Maisie asks.

“Yes, but the council is eligable for a grant for small villages using technology in innovative ways, and I’m sure this would qualify.” I grin. “I can already see so many ways an app could improve council services.”

“Our girl knows what this village needs.” Beth grins.

“I want to live in this town!” Maisie shouts.

“You already do live in this town,” Dora says.

“I know that.” Maisie blushes. “I just mean that I love Komal’s vision for what Argleton could be. Especially if it means I get to keep my job.”

“Now, can we talk about this week’s book?” Arabella demands. “It’s a dark sapphic romantasy, and I found it delightful—”

“No!” everyone shouts.

I beam around the room. Everyone is so enthusiastic about helping me, and I love that they’re bringing ideas to the table, even if some of their ideas are a smidge self-serving. But if that makes Argleton a better place to live, then that’s all good by me.

With friends like these in my corner, Augustin Durant doesn’t stand a chance.

7Augustin

Gideon: I’m calling a war council at Allie’s place tonight. He’s had word of who the three delegates will be, and Komal running for mayor has just made our whole plan more complicated. I need to drink at least a pint of blood before I can strategise, and since Sanctus is currently involuntarily dry, I’m staging a hostile takeover of the Black Crag cellar. See you at nine.

I NEVER LEARNED TO DRIVE anything beyond a horse-drawn carriage, so Alaric sends his Thrall Reginald to collect us. Hannah climbs in the back of the vintage vehicle, and I clutch her tightly against me as Reginald proceeds to reenact his favourite scenes from Fast & Furious: Vampire Drift.

We’re tossed about like two otters stuck inside a blender being carried along by rapids during a thunderstorm as Reginald assaults the narrow village roads with nary a thought given to speed limits, hedgehog crossings, or the metaphysical reality of an afterlife.