CHAPTER 5

 

 

"I'm out in the middle of nowhere with a vampire beside me, his soul in his lap, and we're going to go check out a couple of suspicious deaths. Nothing wrong with that at all. . ." I muttered to myself as my car bumped along the country road.

We were out on a country road about twenty miles from the diner and thirty from my comfortable, safe apartment. There were tall corn fields on either side of the road that stretched into the night like a professional basketball team paid to be scarecrows. Those would be very expensive scarecrows. A few farmhouses sat inside the future popcorn fields. We passed the last one five miles back, and judging by the darkness ahead of us the next house would be the one we needed.

"So what do you think killed those people?" I asked my quiet companion.

"A vampire," he surmised.

"Anyone you know?"

"Perhaps."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I will better answer that question when we inspect the home," he replied.

"You vampires leave calling cards or something?" I wondered.

"Perhaps I will find something the police missed. If that fails then we will go to the morgue and investigate the bodies," he told me.

"What will that tell us?" I asked him.

"Each vampire's fangs are slightly different and leave a unique bite that identifies them," he revealed.

"So like fingerprints, but sharp and pointy?" I guessed.

"Yes. I've memorized quite a few over my- well, my long life, and I might be able to recognize the vampire who killed the family," he told me.

"And then what?"

He turned away to look out his window. I noticed the grip on his soul box got stronger. "Then we will duel until one of us is destroyed."

"So that's it? No day in vampire court?" I wondered.

He shook his head. "No. A vampire who breaks our codes must be harshly dealt with."

"I'd hate to be caught cheating at cards. . ." I murmured. "So are these codes written or unwritten?"

"Written. Each new vampire is given a copy upon leaving their sire, and they swear an oath to obey the codes," he explained.

I snorted. "I didn't know being a vampire was so bureaucratic. Is there a form to fill out to become a vampire?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No. The process is a matter of a vampire choosing their companion and turning them."

"Willingly or kicking and screaming down to the last drop?" I asked him.

"A willing companion is much easier to deal with, but there have been times. . ." His voice faded off. I chanced a glance at him and noticed he was looking down at his box.

"You went kicking and screaming, didn't you?" I guessed.

A bitter smile slipped onto his lips. "Very, but I was no match for the vampire."

"How long ago was it?"

Roland shook himself and looked at the road. "A very long time ago, but the present calls for our attention."

I rolled my eyes and watched the road. Some of the potholes were big enough to drive a jeep into, if the jeep was on the back of a flatbed trailer attached to a semi. "So is it your 'code' to go after these rogue vampires?"

"Yes, but it's also a matter of survival. If humans learn of our existence we will be hunted like animals and slaughtered," he explained.

"Sounds like you have some experience with being the prey," I mused.

"Yes. There is a small, but very old group of humans who have hunted my kind since before the code was settled several thousand years ago," he told me. "They will stop at nothing to destroy us, and a reckless vampire will lead them right to me."

"You could run away," I pointed out.

His eyes flickered to me and he smiled. "Then I would be out of your protection. That is, unless you came with me."

I shook my head. "I was born and bred in this town, and even if it becomes ground-zero for a war between vampires and hunters I'm going to die here."

Roland chuckled. "You never cease to remind me why I chose you to protect my soul."

"Don't start praising me yet," I scolded him. "I've only had one whole day with that thing, and you're lucky nobody broke in and tried to grab that thing from my covers while I was under your spell."

"My spell only put you to sleep. It didn't keep you asleep," he told me.

I sighed and shrugged. "Well, I suppose if somebody would've come in my sleep hair would've scared them off. Anyway, how long is this search of the farm going to take? The sun isn't going to stay down even if we ask it nice."

"Unfortunately, I can't tell, but I will keep note of the time," he promised.

The car headlights caught an opening in the basketball players, and in a few minutes I turned into a long dirt road that ended at a dark, two-floor farmhouse. There was a small corral out back and a delivery of fresh hay by the house. I parked in the gravel lot in front of the house and we got out. The place was deathly silent and a cool wind blew by us. Police tape covered the front porch and fluttered in the wind. The door was open and the slight breeze caused it to bang against the inside wall.

"Nope. Nothing strange here at all," I quipped.

"Is the police in this area always so careless?" Roland asked me.

"You mean about the door? Normally I'd say yes, but they wouldn't want the bad publicity by leaving a door open, especially the front one," I commented.

Roland pursed his lips. "Then it seems were are expected."

"I'm not dressed for a dinner date, especially if I'm on the menu," I argued.

He walked around the car and held the box out towards me. "Keep this safe. I will inspect the house."

"Hell no, you're not leaving me here so I can reenact the damsel-in-distress scene of every bad horror movie," I protested. I took the box and nodded at the house. "If you're going in there, we're going in there. Right, Soul?" I jerked back when a faint glow appeared from beneath the lid, but it faded as quickly as it happened. I looked up at Roland. "What was that about?"

He grinned. "It seems my soul agrees with you."

"Then let's get this done and get home. I didn't get to finish putting away my laundry," I told him.

The box and I followed Roland to the front porch. We ducked under the tape and crept over to the open door. I stepped on every squeaky porch board. Even some of the nails squeaked. Roland grabbed my hand and guided me so we were both pressed against the right side of the door. I shivered at his touch. It was as cold as ice and as clammy as a-well, clam.

Roland peeked around the corner for a moment. "I neither hear nor see anything," he whispered.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" I returned.

"I'm not sure. Let's go find out," he suggested.

He crept inside and I didn't have much choice but to follow. The inside of the farmhouse was cozy except for the creepy feeling that crawled up my spine. Even for an empty house the place was too quiet. Not a single fly buzzed in the rooms. The house had a few rooms off to the left and right, and straight ahead was the stairs up to the second floor. You had to go through one of the wings to get to the back of the house.

Roland led us to the left where there was a dining room and connected kitchen. The windows didn't have thick curtains so some moonlight let me see that the four dining table chairs were pulled out. Roland went over to one and set his hand on the top. I moved to stand beside him as he surveyed the empty table.

"Don't tell me you're telepathic, too," I whispered. Talking in any other voice would've sounded like a scream, and if there was going to be screaming I wasn't going to waste my breath on false alarms.

He shook his head and his lips were pressed tightly together. "No, but it doesn't take one to see there's something wrong here."

I ran a hand over the table and inspected the dust on my fingers. "No need to dust for fingerprints."

"The police have been thorough," he agreed.

Roland frowned and knelt down beside the table. He reached between the cushion and wooden frame of one of the chairs, and plucked something from the crack.

"Found a table crumb?" I asked him.

He held up a thin yellow stalk. "A piece of straw," he told me.

I jerked my head behind us. "There was a whole stack of it outside." Roland didn't reply as he examined the straw. I brushed my fingers on my apron and put my hands on my hips. "I wonder if that Ginsleh guy came over here yet."

Roland froze and whipped his head to me. "What did you say?"

I opened my mouth, but Roland's eyes widened and he dove at me. His arms wrapped around my waist and he slammed me into the floor. The sharp, pointy box between us jabbed into my gut. I only had time to wheeze out a complaint before he grabbed my hand and wrenched us to our feet. He dragged me back through the front door and out onto the porch.

"What are you doing?" I gasped. Something flew past my face and struck the police tape. A round hole appeared in the tape and cut it neatly in two so both ends fluttered to the ground. "Somebody's shooting at us!" I yelled.

"Hold on!" Roland shouted.

He swept me into his arms, a romantic gesture if somebody wasn't trying to give us ventilation, and jumped into the air. We flew up fifteen yards and I looked down. A man ran out of the house and turned his head up. It was the same guy who'd left the newspaper clipping. He had a long black rifle in his hands and he aimed it at us.

"Look out!" I shouted.

I grabbed Roland's shoulders and shoved him to the side. The gun didn't make a sound, but the bullet whistled through Roland's right shoulder. He flinched, but didn't change our trajectory of higher and farther away from the lunatic with the gun. We sailed over the corn and towards the west.

"My apartment's the other way!" I reminded him.

"We must not let him follow us to your apartment," he argued.

"But he already knows where it is! He talked to Charlie and-" I noticed the color of his skin had gone from fish-belly to flour white. The sleeve of his shirt was stained with blood and it flowed down his arm and dripped behind us. I pursed my lips and lowered my volume. "How long can you last?" I asked him.

"Not very long," he told me.

I glanced down at the ground. "I know a place near here. You'll be safe there."