Page 49 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One
“Glad you’re here,” I say, feeling a little homesick today.
We go back inside when the sunlight starts to dwindle down to orange streaks across the sky. There’s a clattering sound overhead when we walk in. It stops me in my tracks until my mind makes out what the noise is.
It’s moaning.
“Ugh. Gross,” I say, but I know they’re having an amazing time right now. I’m just salty about it.
“Come on. Let’s go lie down,” I say to Darling, racing back to my wing to escape the noise I know I’ll be thinking about all night long. It makes my blood pound harder between my legs.
I try to get comfortable in the room, but I feel icky after the crypt. I pull some bay leaves out of my duffel and light them.
There’s nothing like a smoke cleanse to get rid of any gross energy lingering about. The place feels cleaner when I’m done.
Maybe Faith was right. Maybe I am a little witch.
I smile to myself and crawl into bed with my vibrator in hand. My favorite wand.
I only have it clicked on for a second when I hear a man’s voice.
Beatrice.
I turn it off.
“Who’s there?”
“You missed one, Beatrice.”
I sit up and pat around the blankets until I find my bag. The voice sounds like it’s coming from the hallway.
“Are you going to mess with me all night?”
“If you don’t help me find my way to the veil, then I might,” the low voice chuckles. “My body isn’t in the crypt with the rest. I’m another wayward child.”
This ghost talks like a huge flirt, and I’m wary of that, but I’m also intrigued. I grab my tools. I can handle one ghost on my own.
“Why do you need my help?”
“I’m lost.”
Darling growls near the door, and I hesitate when I’m out in the hallway. I can’t feel the ghost, only a slight shivering coolness when I step toward his voice.
“I can guide you there now,” I tell him.
“But I want to show you where my body rests. I don’t want to be forgotten. Please, Beatrice.”
I creep to where a door opens on its own. I clutch my amulet.
“In here,” he beckons, and silence falls around me.
“Where’d you go?” I ask, scanning the room before walking in. Everything is shrouded in white sheets. I pull one off a chair and cough from the cloud of dust that goes flying. I tug on another sheet, and it slips off smoothly, revealing a polished coffin.
It must be relatively new because it’s shiny and smells like furniture polish.
A fresh corpse, not creepy at all.
I open it slowly. A wave of nausea rolls over me when I see the body lying on the white satin liner. Fresh is an understatement. The man in the coffin still looks beautiful. There’s no trace of decay, and he’s certainly not a pile of bones. Light brown hair frames a white oval face with high cheekbones.
I touch one of his arms.
