Page 42 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One
“You’d think so. But she has other ways to make vampires pay. Not that any other hunter would approve of her unique methods.”
His face is stony, and I know he’s not going to elaborate on those methods. I’m not sure I want to know.
Most of the rooms in this hall seem inconsequential—the furniture draped and dusty, or otherwise bare. Maybe it’s a great hiding place for relics, but I’m thinking a family with a legacy probably keeps their special items enshrined.
We turn a corner, and the passageway here seems more run-down than the parts of the mansion I’ve seen so far. An old crimson carpet covers the dark walnut flooring, and dried wax dribbles are solidified on the iron wall sconces. I pull out my phone to use it as a flashlight because the light dies down the further we go.
Peeking past musty old doors gives me anxiety. Waves of cold dread roll down my spine, and Dennis must note my unease because he steps ahead of me.
“Here, I’ll make sure nothing jumps out,” he says with a cocky grin. It must be nice to be able to see and hear everything that goes bump in the night.
I shine my light ahead, watching him glance in every room. I double-check behind him, hoping nothing crawls out from the old canopied beds.
A portrait catches my eye because it’s so strange I can’t believe anyone would paint it. A little girl clings to her mother’s skirts. The woman stares ahead, the stake in her hand dripping blood onto her white shirt. At first, I think the movement is a trick of the light, but the child steps away from her mother and presses her hands to the picture frame.
“You don’t belong here, Beatrice,” she says in a sing-song voice that dissolves into giggles. “They’ll come for you too. They only want you for your blood.”
I don’t wait to see if she climbs out of her square. I back out of the room, nearly dropping my phone. The light shakes as I check behind me, but I steady my hand when I hear a clomping noise ahead of me.
An extra set of footsteps.
My heart rate spikes when I notice the shadow creeping along the wall behind Dennis. It takes the form of a man with his arm raised over his head. There’s something sharp in his grip, angled to land between Dennis’ shoulder blades.
“Dennis!”
He’s already turning when I scream his name. His fangs are bared, and the shadow breaks into wisps of smoke that swirl around my head and call my name.
“Your heart, Bea. It’s about to beat right out your chest. Breathe.”
I suck in a few lungfuls, forcing the voices of the dead to quiet down.
“There are so many of them,” I say. “They really don’t want us here. I thought that one was about to get you.”
His eyes slide to the wall where the shadow was stalking him.
“Don’t worry about me. They can’t hurt me.” He touches my wrist. “Are you ready? The spirits seem potent on this side of the mansion.”
No kidding.
I lick my dry lips and nod. I hate it here, but now I’m determined to send these assholes on to the afterlife. For people who hunt vampires to protect humans, they sure seem to like giving living, breathing people a very hard time.
Dennis throws a door open, and shock flits across his features. It’s brief, but I catch the look of apprehension.
“Did you find something?”
“Maybe,” he murmurs, staring into the dark room.
I look over his shoulder, and the scant light my phone provides shines off the surface of something brown and shiny. I squint. There are several rows of about a dozen shiny brown things.
Coffins.
I’m looking at coffins.
“This is weird, even for a haunted house,” I say. Dennis side-eyes the arrangement, but he steps in.
“Some vampires sleep in coffins,” he says.
I run my fingers down the grain of one, cutting through a layer of dust. I wonder if he’s ever slept in one. He sighs.
