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Meet nanny number ten in Our Nanny is a Vampire on KindleUnlimited. By ten forty-five the next morning, I’d already threatened to take away three privileges based on poor behavior even though I knew I’d never follow through—damn gentle parenting. I checked my watch again. Ten forty-six. Not that I was counting. I’d spent the morning trying to prepare the house for the arrival of a deeply traditional and mature (though she’d sounded quite young) nanny, who probably believed children should sit upright at all times and knew how to make them do their chores by only asking once. Unfortunately, the house had fought back. Billie had somehow gotten jam on the banister, and Bianca had refused to put away her books, arguing that books couldn’t technically clutter a room if they were actively in rotation. CJ, smartass that he was, had attempted to explain why making the home look “too clean” could create distrust during interviews. Now all three children stood in the foyer, looking significantly more presentable than usual. Billie wore a yellow dress with crooked tights. Her curls had been brushed into temporary submission, though they were already beginning to reclaim territory around her face. Bianca’s navy cardigan was buttoned all the way up, and she held a book against her chest with both hands like she expected moral judgment at any moment. CJ had voluntarily tucked in his shirt. I stopped pacing long enough to look at them. “Okay,” I said. “One more time.” Three faces looked back at me. “You need to be polite.” “We’re polite,” CJ said. “You need to listen.” “We do listen,” Bianca said. “You need to not psychologically dismantle another childcare professional.” Billie raised her hand. “What if we do it by accident?” “No accidents. Guys, I mean it. This woman could really help us.” The kids exchanged glances. “We know,” CJ said softly. I exhaled slowly and crouched so I was at eye level with Billie. “I’m not asking you to be different people.” “Good, because I already practiced being this one,” she said. I exhaled heavily. “I’m simply asking you to try.” Billie considered that with enormous seriousness, then she nodded. “Okay.” CJ tilted his head. “Do you think she’ll know about the attic?” I stared at him. “You still won’t even tell me what happened in the attic.” “It’s healthier for everyone that you don’t know.” Before I could respond to that, the grandfather clock near the sitting room ticked over to ten fifty-eight. Two minutes. My stomach tightened, which was ridiculous. This was a nanny interview. I had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. Outside, clouds drifted slowly across the morning sun. The light dimmed across the foyer windows, the bright spring gold softening into gray. Billie looked toward the front door. “Did it get spooky outside?” “No,” Bianca said immediately. “Cloud coverage is normal atmospheric behavior.” “It feels haunted.” “Everything feels haunted to you.” “That’s because I have imagination.” CJ wandered toward the window and peeked through the curtain. “Maybe she’s ugly.” “CJ,” I said. When the doorbell rang, all four of us froze for a beat. Then Billie gasped dramatically. Bianca straightened, and CJ’s smile made me suspicious. I adjusted my shirt unnecessarily before walking toward the front door. Behind me, I could feel the children trying very hard to look normal. I opened the door and forgot every assumption I’d made in the last twenty-four hours. The woman standing on my porch couldn’t possibly have been anyone’s elderly former nanny. She looked to be in her late-twenties, maybe early thirties. Tall with pale skin against black clothing. A fitted black coat cinched at the waist. Black gloves. Black heeled boots. A wide black sunhat shadowed most of her face beneath the gray morning sky. A black parasol rested over one shoulder. Long red hair spilled in waves beneath the hat, vivid enough to feel unreal against all the black. And then there were the sunglasses. Large and dark, completely absurd for an overcast morning. For one deeply disorienting second, I genuinely wondered if I’d somehow opened the door into another century. She looked directly at me. She wasn’t at all shy, nor did she seem intimidated by the giant house, my exhausted expression, or the very real possibility that my children were currently engineering something behind me. Her lips curved just slightly. “I’m Nanny Winifred Carrington,” she said, calm and composed. “I believe you require my services?”