Chapter 5 #3
Blowing out a breath, he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.
It was a Cape Cod bungalow, nearly identical in layout to his and Cody’s house. Wooden stairs descended into the dark depths of the basement, while two steps led up to the kitchen. The air was hot and stuffy, heavy with dust and mildew. He forced himself to stop thinking about black mold.
He turned away from the basement and entered the kitchen.
The yellowed linoleum flooring creaked and popped beneath his boots.
It didn’t have a dining room, just a long and narrow eat-in kitchen, the bay windows at the front of the house covered with newspapers and black trash bags to block the light.
Using the flashlight on his phone, he moved through the rooms. Only a few pieces of furniture remained: a vinyl recliner that may have once been light blue, a single straight-backed kitchen chair, and, in a small back bedroom, a battered and dirty doll missing her left arm.
Sweat ran down his body. The skin behind his knees and in the crook of his elbows was slick with it as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, the wood cracking and groaning beneath him.
The hot, stale air gathered even closer around him, making it more difficult to catch his breath.
The upper story had been converted to two bedrooms. In one, the frame of a twin bed stood in one corner, looking robotically skeletal without the mattress.
More newspapers and trash bags covered the windows, and each step he took kicked up clouds of dust. He coughed as he inspected the rooms, and he even worked up the nerve to take a peek inside the stifling attic space behind a small door, but it was empty.
Nothing seemed out of place. The previous owners could have taped the papers and trash bags over the windows before they left. He didn’t see any indication someone had been inside recently. At least not in the upper levels.
He descended the steps, relieved at the somewhat cooler, though still hot, feel of the first floor, and went back to the side door.
Standing at the top of the basement stairs, he peered into the darkness.
His feet felt locked in place on the landing as the heat of the house circled around him.
Blood pounded in his ears, loud as Niagara Falls.
He licked his lips, adjusted his grip on his phone, and started down.
The air was cooler, but damp and musty. Instead of newspaper and trash bags, wood had been secured over the narrow windows, allowing patches of deep gloom to reach out from the corners.
The light from Demetrius’s phone could only penetrate so far, and he hesitated on the bottom step, having to resist the urge to call out, ‘Hello?’
With a stern nod to himself, he left the step and followed the walls.
The utility sink was coated in a layer of dried filth, flies buzzing around the drain.
He didn’t see a washer or dryer, but dried and cracked hoses hung from the hot and cold water connections.
As he passed the opening for a dryer vent positioned near the exposed joists of the ceiling, he noticed it had also been covered with a piece of wood.
In the darkest corner, tucked behind an older furnace and a rusted out water heater, a mattress lay butted up against intersecting walls.
A thick layer of dirt covered it, and clothing was tangled together on top.
A pair of cowboy boots stood at one end, as if waiting for feet to step inside.
Demetrius knew the soles wouldn’t match the print outside.
Heart pounding even harder, Demetrius looked behind and above him, sweeping the light all around.
Nothing moved except cobwebs drifting in the air displaced by his movements.
Satisfied he wasn’t going to be attacked from behind, he crouched and lightly touched the dirt.
It felt wet, and he picked up a handful. It clumped together in a sticky ball.
He shot upright, dropping the dirt and rubbing his palm on his shorts. A vampire had slept on this mattress, and someone had killed him there.
Turning fast, he shone the light all around. No sign of threat, and the clutching tightness inside his chest loosened a bit.
As he walked quickly back to the steps, he saw memories of Dr. Michael Graham, coroner and vampire, collapsing into a thick puddle of black fluid after being impaled by the ancient and terrifying Xavier.
Then he saw Xavier himself dissolving into the same viscous remains after Demetrius and Cody had both staked him.
That’s what had been clumping the dirt: vampire blood.
He climbed the stairs, keeping his gaze averted from the yawning dark spaces between the risers.
When he reached the landing, he let out a breath, then went still.
Despite the heat surrounding him, a clammy chill went through him as his muscles locked in place.
The way the light hit the side door revealed two small ‘v’ marks carved into the wood by the knob.
Side-by-side. Looking for all the world like a pair of fangs.