Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
I leave the hallway, ignoring the stairs leading up to the bedrooms as I know, thanks to the cameras—apart from her guest chained in the basement—no one else is in the house. Through the door where Dexter disappeared, I enter the living room. My boots sink into the soft carpet.
The house is nice—normal.
Magic buzzes around me. There are spells upon spells to keep the place clean, a cloying scent of fake vanilla and rancid magic fills my nostrils.
I take everything in and move with caution as I wouldn’t put it past the witch to have something nasty set up for uninvited guests.
The living room is homely, a bit too much cream for my tastes.
The leather sofa is one you want to flop onto.
It looks expensive. The room leads into a beautiful kitchen, more cream with fancy appliances.
Like the way she dresses; nobody looking at this house would even suspect that Karen Miller was anything but what she presented. When I first analysed the cameras, I thought there would be heads in jars proudly on display. But no. It’s all so normal.
Thinking of heads in jars and scary witch paraphernalia, I drift to the side of the kitchen to an innocuous small narrow door.
This is where she keeps all her creepy stuff.
Without the cameras, I wouldn’t even realise it is here ’cause it blends into the kitchen so well, hidden within plain sight.
With a twist of the handle, the door pops open to reveal a basic golden ward; it wavers in front of dark basement stairs.
I sigh. The ward isn’t to stop someone from going inside, but more to stop whatever’s inside from getting out.
I dig in the lower left pocket of my combats and find the potion ball I’m looking for.
I lift it to my lips and whisper the incarnation, and then I flick it at the ward.
The ward shimmers, and slowly the spell eats at it, the gold dulls and turns black, flaking away until nothing is left.
I lean inside and switch on the lights; I pause.
“Shit, creepy basement time.”
“It’s all clear,” Story says in my earpiece. “Just the vampire.”
Yep, just the vampire. I adjust the black rucksack on my shoulder, and then I take a step.
Dexter appears from out of nowhere, making me yelp. He squeezes past me, butting my leg out of the way with his big head, and sprints down the stairs. “Dexter, bloody hell,” I gripe. My heart pounds, and I clutch my chest. My fingertips brush my horn.
“Reow,” echoes back.
“Shithead.”
At least the furry ginger monster is in front of me instead of tripping me up from behind. Okay, let’s rescue the presumably starving and possibly rabid vampire… Hmm, what can go wrong? I shuffle down the stairs.
It’s the smell that hits me first, the smell of rot.
It screams vampire, but more pungent than normal.
Unwashed, sick vampire. It tickles the back of my throat and makes me want to throw up.
But I swallow a few times and try to just breathe through my mouth as I make my way down the creaky wooden stairs.
Then with each step, the steadily growing magic batters at me. It must be the double unicorn magic what with my grandfather’s horn and my magic now around my neck. Sweat trickles down my spine. If I didn’t need the things in my coat, I’d remove it.
The basement is huge; it spans the full length of the house, rows of tightly packed shelves with illegal spell ingredients. I ignore everything as I head for the body tucked in the corner; he doesn’t even look like a person as he hunches.
“Hey, my name is Tru.” I attempt to keep my voice soft and gentle. “I’ve taken care of the wicked witch upstairs, and I’m here to get you out, get you home.”
The body jerks, and a raspy voice answers, “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, but I’m not buying what you’re selling. Leave me the fuck alone. Tell that bitch to fuck off.”
Well, that’s a surprise, even after everything he’s been through. The vampire is feisty; I feel weirdly proud of him. “Okay. You hungry?” I let the rucksack slide from my shoulder and unzip it.
“I’m always hungry,” he whines. His voice overflows with desperation.
“I’ve got you.” I pull out a big plastic bottle of blood, give it a quick shake, and quickly remove the cap. His head snaps up when he catches the scent.
Red eyes within a gaunt face desperately follow my movements, and his fangs shoot out uncontrollably, piercing his bottom lip. I lean towards him, and he snatches the bottle out of my hand. I cringe when I see the state of his wrists; the scars are atrocious.
“I really am here to help you,” I say as I crouch in front of him, my muscles tense and ready if I need to spring out of his way. “Steady, don’t drink so fast. You’ll make yourself sick.” He doesn’t listen, and he chokes, and the blood splatters across his lips and chin. “Can I undo your chains?”
He nods, his mouth full of blood.
I’m well aware that I’m putting myself in a hazardous situation since this young vampire could go completely rabid, but… but I don’t know… I weirdly trust him.
I fish out the key that I got from the witch’s pocket and undo each shackle.
Carefully as I can, I peel the metal away from his raggedy, scarred wrists.
It’s painful to do, and I cringe with sympathy as the skin has grown over the embedded metal.
It must hurt like crazy. But the vampire doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain as he continues to guzzle the bottle of blood.
When the bottle is empty, he frantically pulls it apart, trying to stick his tongue inside the damaged plastic to get every drop.
I grab another bottle, give it a quick shake, pop the top, and hand it over.
“I have another five bottles with me. So try to drink slower this time.”
He drinks.
Eventually, he slumps against the wall, his belly distended.
“What’s your name?”
“Justin.”
“Okay, Justin. We have time for you to go upstairs and use the shower if you want to.” I show him my bag full of clothes.
“You can get clean and changed and we can get you out of here. Get you home or to a safe house. You’re in control of what happens next.
” He meets my eyes. “I just want to help you. I don’t think it’s wise, and it would be unfair to you, if I let an untrained vampire out into the world. ”
His chin drops to his chest in defeat. “I can’t do this,” he whispers.
Shit. Dexter appears. He rubs himself against my knee, and then he sits in front of the naked vampire. Ignoring the blood still dripping from Justin’s mouth, he rubs himself against him and purrs. “This is Dexter.”
“Meow.”
“You brought your cat with you?” Justin says with an incredulous shake of his head. “Is he your familiar?”
“Nah, he’s my pain in the bum. I’m not a witch. I’m actually a shifter-vampire hybrid.” I roll my eyes. Justin’s hand shakes, and he strokes Dexter’s fur.
“He’s so soft,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, he is.” I know in that second, with him gently stroking Dexter, that Justin is going to be okay.
“The reason we are here… urm, Karen Miller, the witch, had something of mine, and I wanted to get it back. When I was doing recon on the house, I noticed you were in the basement and thought I’d give you a hand getting out of here. ”
Justin rolls his head back against the wall, and his eyes drift up to the ceiling. “I don’t think I can shower here. I know I stink.” His voice drops. “What if she comes back?”
I smile softly in response to his frightened, whispered words. “That evil bitch is never coming back.” In that moment I realise the truth… I had never any intention of handing Karen Miller over to the witches.
I can’t.
No. I can’t risk it. She’s the ultimate bad guy.
But if I can’t hand her over, does that mean I’ll have to kill her myself? Am I willing to do that?
My eyes drift across Justin’s emaciated frame. She chained him in her basement for a long time. I can see the damage that has been inflicted on his body. It paints a picture of horrendous abuse. Damage that is slowly healing, thanks to the blood.
I couldn’t justify killing her for myself. But I watched the cameras, heard him cry. Worse, I see him now with my own eyes.
I’m a saviour, not a killer.
Looks like today I might end up being both.
A wobbly Justin jumps into the shower and then gets dressed. I give him the option of either calling a taxi to get to the portal or walking; he decides he would like to walk, considering he hasn’t been outside for a long time.
“Ready?”
“Yeah, I guess. This is going be a big adjustment.” Justin shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot.
He definitely looks better. It is amazing the magical properties of blood when it comes to bitten vampires, and a shower and clean clothes also help. Although he still looks like a vampire and he still looks like… well, dead. He at least no longer looks like a walking zombie.
His face is fuller, and overall he looks less emaciated. His greasy hair that I thought was black is actually a dark auburn.
I crouch down next to the toolbox and pack away everything that I don’t need, including putting most of the microcameras back in their box. I try to ignore the unconscious witch, who’s slumped at the bottom of the storeroom, breathing like Darth Vader.
“Have you got somewhere to go? Family?” I ask Justin.
He glances down at his feet and shakes his head. “No, I’ve got no one. A female vampire turned me without my permission… She took a shine to me.” He cringes.
“That doesn’t sound good.”