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Headlights sweep over carnage, pin a pacing Scarlet directly in the beam for a second before Josh hits the brakes, bringing the Corvette to a reluctant standstill.

Bells of her anklet jingling, Scarlet slams into the passenger seat.

Josh stares at the torn-apart park, tucks his tongue into his cheek. “Looks like you’ve been having fun.”

Scarlet bares her fangs. “Not yet but the night is young. Why aren’t we moving?”

“Seatbelt.” Josh waits through Scarlet’s sulk and struggle with the latch. He cautiously eases his foot off the clutch, adds the slightest pressure to the accelerator rocks the gear shift from first to second . . . and grits his teeth as the Hemi engine growls and drags him into fourth and the G forces slam him back into the embrace of cream leather.

Scarlet twists in her seat, lifting to free the tails of her coat. She snags an empty shoebox from behind the driver’s seat and starts emptying pockets. “We want to pay a little visit to our favourite vampire. Take the road to The Wild Butterfly.”

“How about you drop me at home first.” Josh gives up trying to assert his dominance and relaxes his grip on the wheel. The Corvette responds by settling into a kilometre-devouring purr, happy to be in fifth gear.

“Nope, need a loyal and trusty minion, and you’re it.” Scarlet fans a fistful of wallets and hums as she plays eeny-meeny-miny. “That’s what you get for answering the phone. Where is Kelly anyway?”

“Sleeping.”

“About time.” Scarlet efficiently strips cash and coins, tosses them carelessly into the box on her lap, before rifling through cards. Credit cards, licences, library cards, hair salons, she mows through them with quick flicks of her fingers. “Never understood how he manages to go for days at a time without it, only to crash and sleep for twenty-four hours straight. Must be a witchy thing.”