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Authors: John G Hartness
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play on and a resort hotel nobody could afford to stay in. The houses were typical Charlotte pre-recession McMansions with postage-stamp yards and more room in the garage than Greg and I had in our whole basement apartment. I took a quick lap around the house to make sure there were no cops hanging out, and then knocked on the front door.
A fifty-ish man answered, and by the way he stood halfway behind the door I was pretty sure he had a gun in the hand I couldn’t see. I didn’t blame him, I suppose. His youngest kid was missing, presumed dead, and the bad guy hadn’t been caught. I guess if I was still alive and in his shoes, I’d be a little jumpy, too. “Mr. Reynolds?” I asked.
“Yes, can I help you?” He didn’t open the door any wider, and I stayed a few feet back from the door on the porch, trying to look as innocent as possible, and trying to keep a little in the shadows just in case this guy was more perceptive than most people. This might be one of the few times that being turned at an early age would come in handy, as I got mistaken for a high school kid more often than I usually enjoyed. But tonight I decided to use it to my advantage.
“I’m Tommy Harris. I go to school with Janice, and I just wanted to stop by and see how she was doing, what with everything that’s happened to you guys and all.” I must have done a pretty good impression of someone in high school, and alive, because he stepped back and held the door open for me.
“Come on in, son. I’ll get Janice.” I stepped across the threshold and felt the familiar tingle that I get whenever I go into someone’s home. I’ve never understood the invitation thing, but it’s as true as sunlight and stakes. We can’t enter a private residence unless we’re invited. So Greg and I don’t do much in the way of house calls. We try to meet our clients in public places, so we don’t run into any uncomfortable situations. But Mr. Reynolds had issued the invite, no matter how false the pretenses, and I was in.
“That’s okay, sir. I can go up. It’s the third door on the left, right?” I could hear the girl open the door upstairs and didn’t need her coming down and blowing my cover. Dad had tucked his gun away somewhere, but I wasn’t willing to bet that I could get it away from him before he did enough damage to really ruin my night.
“Yes, it is. How did you…” I left him there asking questions to the back of my head as I took the stairs two at a time on my way up. I saw a slim blonde girl at the top of the stairs wearing a pink t-shirt and sweat pants, and assumed this was Janice. For her part, she took one look at me and got a very confused look in her eyes.
“You’re not…” she started, but I crossed the last few feet to her with superhuman speed, because, well, I’m not human. I put my hand over her mouth and moved her backwards toward her room.
“Don’t say a word. I’m here to get your sister back.” I whispered in her ear as I steered us into her bedroom. It was decorated in typical 21st-century teen girl chic, with a poster of Lady Gaga over her computer desk, and a picture of Edward Cullen over her bed. I have to give the Twilight kids credit, they’ve done wonders for vampires’ public image, even if the books do kinda suck. “Can you keep quiet? Because I’d like to let you go, but if you scream, I’m going to have to jump out your window, and I ruin a lot of jackets that way.”
She nodded, and I took my hand off her mouth. Of course, she instantly opened her mouth to scream, and I poked her in the belly with two fingers. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she needed some idea of my strength. All the air went out of her in a
whoosh!
and she sat down hard on her bed. I sat in the computer chair and quickly shut down the machine. The last thing I needed was some webcam running or IM client popping up in the middle of our conversation.
“Now will you be quiet? I could have hurt you there, but
A fifty-ish man answered, and by the way he stood halfway behind the door I was pretty sure he had a gun in the hand I couldn’t see. I didn’t blame him, I suppose. His youngest kid was missing, presumed dead, and the bad guy hadn’t been caught. I guess if I was still alive and in his shoes, I’d be a little jumpy, too. “Mr. Reynolds?” I asked.
“Yes, can I help you?” He didn’t open the door any wider, and I stayed a few feet back from the door on the porch, trying to look as innocent as possible, and trying to keep a little in the shadows just in case this guy was more perceptive than most people. This might be one of the few times that being turned at an early age would come in handy, as I got mistaken for a high school kid more often than I usually enjoyed. But tonight I decided to use it to my advantage.
“I’m Tommy Harris. I go to school with Janice, and I just wanted to stop by and see how she was doing, what with everything that’s happened to you guys and all.” I must have done a pretty good impression of someone in high school, and alive, because he stepped back and held the door open for me.
“Come on in, son. I’ll get Janice.” I stepped across the threshold and felt the familiar tingle that I get whenever I go into someone’s home. I’ve never understood the invitation thing, but it’s as true as sunlight and stakes. We can’t enter a private residence unless we’re invited. So Greg and I don’t do much in the way of house calls. We try to meet our clients in public places, so we don’t run into any uncomfortable situations. But Mr. Reynolds had issued the invite, no matter how false the pretenses, and I was in.
“That’s okay, sir. I can go up. It’s the third door on the left, right?” I could hear the girl open the door upstairs and didn’t need her coming down and blowing my cover. Dad had tucked his gun away somewhere, but I wasn’t willing to bet that I could get it away from him before he did enough damage to really ruin my night.
“Yes, it is. How did you…” I left him there asking questions to the back of my head as I took the stairs two at a time on my way up. I saw a slim blonde girl at the top of the stairs wearing a pink t-shirt and sweat pants, and assumed this was Janice. For her part, she took one look at me and got a very confused look in her eyes.
“You’re not…” she started, but I crossed the last few feet to her with superhuman speed, because, well, I’m not human. I put my hand over her mouth and moved her backwards toward her room.
“Don’t say a word. I’m here to get your sister back.” I whispered in her ear as I steered us into her bedroom. It was decorated in typical 21st-century teen girl chic, with a poster of Lady Gaga over her computer desk, and a picture of Edward Cullen over her bed. I have to give the Twilight kids credit, they’ve done wonders for vampires’ public image, even if the books do kinda suck. “Can you keep quiet? Because I’d like to let you go, but if you scream, I’m going to have to jump out your window, and I ruin a lot of jackets that way.”
She nodded, and I took my hand off her mouth. Of course, she instantly opened her mouth to scream, and I poked her in the belly with two fingers. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she needed some idea of my strength. All the air went out of her in a
whoosh!
and she sat down hard on her bed. I sat in the computer chair and quickly shut down the machine. The last thing I needed was some webcam running or IM client popping up in the middle of our conversation.
“Now will you be quiet? I could have hurt you there, but
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