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So I’d been right and wrong. It wasn’t a vampire, not anymore, but it had been once. And now it was nothing. But in the time between life and death what had become of it? What could turn a vampire into a ghost? And what kind of ghost could be killed by bullets?
This night kept getting stranger and stranger.
I jogged up the steps to the house, not letting anything else distract me from my purpose. I kicked open the inner door and had my weapon at the ready if anything was waiting for me inside, but the main floor of the house was empty.
The power had been shut down again, and the last remnants of the smoke-machine haze were fading away, leaving only a low-lying gloom over the floors that kept the bottom half of the room invisible.
In front of me was a large oak-banister staircase leading to the second floor. The room on the left had been converted into storage and was filled with boxes and various parts of the park’s former life. To the right, a room bathed in moonlight appeared to contain only a shiny black coffin on a pedestal. More leftovers from the house’s former life. Behind it, a mummy dummy rested at an angle against the empty bookshelves, arms pointed outward in preparation to grab an unsuspecting passerby.
I sniffed the air, but the dry smell of the fog was overwhelming. If anyone was in here with me, I couldn’t tell, so I was effectively fighting blind. I took a few tentative steps forward, and when I didn’t trip over anything, I moved with more confidence towards the stairs. Following the staircase to the second floor, I did a sweep.
The house’s layout had been designed for tours rather than living, so the second floor was a maze of rooms and attractions. I stood stupefied, looking at what was laid out before me. There was a crumbling drywall framework, which I could see through to more walls beyond. I felt like a mouse in a laboratory maze. I stepped through the first doorway, ducking under the broken wall into a high-ceilinged room lined with mirrors.
“Fuuuuuuck. ”
About a hundred of me swore along in unison. Adjusting my shooting grip, I pressed my back to the closest wall and scooted along, shadowed by my consortium of doppelgangers as we searched for the right exit into the next room of this house of horrors.
Up here, away from the smoke machine, the smell of blood was strong, but there was a stale quality to it. Not long aged, it also wasn’t brand new. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I chose to hope it was the former.
I followed the mirrored walls, bumping into adjacent mirrors several times. As I moved, I avoided looking at my own alarmed expression. It was hard to pretend you weren’t afraid when thirty-six horrified reflections of you were staring back.
A black square with no reflection on it appeared, and I gratefully stepped through into the space waiting beyond. Into a graveyard.
At first I thought I was mistaken. The ground underfoot was real dirt, and there were a dozen graves laid out before me, each one looking frightfully fresh. Even the smell in the air was of fresh earth and night wind.
Once I touched the nearest surface it was obvious the walls were only painted to look like a nighttime sky and the headstones were just well-decorated Styrofoam. I nudged one over with my foot, and it flopped backwards without any resistance. No angry dead rose up to avenge the desecration. I knelt and brushed the dirt back from the mound just to be sure no one was buried underneath. All it revealed was a shipping barrel cut in half with nothing under it.
I sat back on my heels and looked around the room, wishing it would tell me something. I needed a clue as to where I was supposed to be searching.
From downstairs came a riotous crashing noise and the sound of a male voice screaming in pain.
I skidded back into the mirror room, not wanting to risk moving forward when I knew going backwards would at least take me somewhere familiar. My shoulder collided into one of the mirrored walls with staggering force and shards of sharp glass rained down on me, speckling my skin with an array of new cuts. Still I moved forward, with more care now but with no less haste.
I reached the main hall and wasted no time with the stairs. I vaulted over the banister, landing at the foot of the stairs with a loud thud, buried instantly by the newly restored fake smoke. When I got to my feet, I was facing the room with the prop coffin in it.
Only now the coffin was open.
“We’re glad you could make it,” a masculine voice announced from a few feet behind me.
I’d been so preoccupied in hoping to find someone, I hadn’t been paying attention for people trying to find me. I turned around slowly and saw Jameson holding Nolan by the neck in a sleeper hold while the boy kicked at the floor, fighting against the wave of unconsciousness threatening to take him over. Nolan was looking at me wide-eyed, but my sight was all on Jameson.
“I came here to help you,” I said, my voice loaded with the hurt of his betrayal.
Nolan passed out, and Jameson dropped his body to the floor.
“Oh, you will help us, Secret. You have no idea how much you’ll help. ”
I saw the wrought-iron fire poker in his other hand a moment before he swung. And then for the first time in my life I got to find out what it felt like to be bashed in the skull with one.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“This seems like a silly way to spend your last moments,” Brigit said, ever cheerful.
We were lying next to a pool, our skin warmed by the glow of the midday sun while a very handsome young man delivered us mimosas. I’d never had a mimosa before.
“If I make it through this, please make sure I try one of these,” I requested.
Brigit laughed, sipping her own drink and adjusting her oversize sunglasses. Her toenails were painted bright pink to match her bikini. I wore black. I looked out at the blue, blue water, enjoying the way sunlight reflecting off it was so glaring in certain places I couldn’t look directly at it.
