The Fifth Sun
By Crystal Carroll
Copyright © 2012 Crystal Carroll
All rights reserved.
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It was a sad but true fact that hunting vampires was frequently boring and often involved a great deal of sitting in cemeteries. Elizabeth sat on her camp chair throne. Her royal posterior had grown numb with sitting. God’s Teeth, this was dull. It was a threadbare tapestry of tedium. A milk-and-water feast of monotony. A plodding platitudinous affliction of repetition.
She couldn’t think of a word dull enough for what this was.
Elizabeth kicked her sandaled heels and waited for Dickon of Norfolk to wake up from the grave into which he‘d crept to sleep away the hours of daylight. He was a sluggard this vampire. A sluggard and a Spanish spy. Then again, he had had a very heavy meal of three people before his sleep. She wondered if he’d be a handsome spy, but such had never been her luck. Her brother-in-law, King Felipe, always sent such plain vampires to creep about her kingdom.
She adjusted the folds of her classique-style dress and her crescent moon French hood. It was bit chilly to be dressed as a Greek goddess, but that was a sacrifice that she was willing to make. Plus, the pearl bodice showed off her trim waist.