Don't Open That Door - GoM 1

GiB - 2

The house was lit up like a Christmas tree in the cool summer night, full of teens with their loud voices and even louder music. The noise came out the open windows, reached the street, flooded the neighboring houses. And the neighbors sighed, whishing Rob Thompson hadn't really meant it when he'd said the party will go on until sunrise. Nobody was mad at him, though. Rob was a nice boy and he'd earned an all-out birthday party on his coming of age.

His parents had helped him set it all and had left to spend the night at Betty's B&B, to keep from being tempted to interfere. Rob never got in trouble, he'd graduated among the top five grades in his class, and they trusted him to handle the party without supervision this once.

About ten, Rob noticed they were running out of beer and headed to the basement, where he'd stored the small barrels of Clyde's best ale. He was about to open the door when he smelled flowers. His heart raced, but he managed a cool smile to turn to Lila Malher.

Small and frail, dressed up in full gothic fashion, Lila flashed a shy smile back at Rob. She was Stevie's cousin, come to visit for the summer, and Rob had fallen for her the moment he'd first seen her. Good thing that despite her being so quiet and shy, Lila didn't hide she was into Rob too.

"Going down?" she asked.

"Yeah, don't wanna let the beasts run dry." Rob opened the basement door under the stairs and turned the light on. "Wanna come?" It wasn't the hook line of the year, but it'd be his first chance to be alone with her.

Lila glanced down. "Okay. You go first."

Rob's smile was a bright grin as he took the lead down the stairs. Lila paused to close the door behind her and followed him.

Rob headed straight to the barrels in the corner, while Lila looked around. He grabbed one and dropped it back, grunting. A wood splinter had cut the inner side of his finger. It looked like a paper cut, and it took but a heartbeat to start bleeding as one. Lila spun around and hurried to him. Rob sucked his finger with an apologetic smile.

"You okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing."

"Let me see."

Rob's heart raced again as her white cold hand touched his. And he couldn't help a gasp when she took his finger to his lips painted black. A chill ran down his spine, half rejection, half thrill, watching Lila kiss the cut. She looked back up at him and the concept of thinking straight fell off his dictionary. He didn't even notice the cut on his finger was gone. He had more urgent things to do, like kissing Lila.

Upstairs, Stevie Malher navigated the crowded living room with John and Chad, ignoring the girls twerking for an eager audience. The three boys squeezed the last drops from the last barrel of beer.

"Where's Rob?" asked Stevie, almost shouting to overcome the music. "Wasn't he getting more beer?"

"Yeah, he went to grab another barrel like an hour ago," replied John.

"I think I saw him going down to the basement with your cousin," said Chad.

"With Lila? Then we're gonna die of old age before they come back."

The three boys brushed their way out of the room toward the basement door in the hall, under the stairs. Stevie tried to open it, but it was locked from the inside.

"Whadda?" he grunted.

"Told ya he's with your cous."

Stevie stuck his face to the door and shouted, "Rob, you son of a bitch! Give up the beer!"

The other two laughed and took their turn to shout.

"You can keep the chick!"

"You can't have both the booze and the girl!"

They took a moment to laugh heartedly at their own jokes.

Since they got no answer whatsoever, Stevie put his ear to the door, as if he'd be able to hear anything from behind the door with so much noise all around.

"Hands up, dude! I'm coming!" he shouted, stepping back.

He kicked the knob and the door slammed open. The three boys leaned in to look down. Their faces cracked in a horror grimace.

"Call 911!" Stevie cried, running down the stairs.

Ollie Turner finished his huge hamburger, chewed the last fries, sipped the last of his soda. It was going to be a long night on duty all by himself.

He'd accepted to take the watch before knowing Claire was coming back home, and when she called him, it was already too late to ask for a replacement. To make it worse, he couldn't even take a nap. Not with Rob Thompson throwing such a bender.

Claire hadn't said she'd drop by, but Ollie still hoped she'd swing by, bringing one of her funny lunch boxes with a sweet bite for him.

The phone rang, startling him. He picked up, wondering what Mrs. Woodson would be calling about this time. Maybe aliens, again. Or vampires. Or werewolves even if it wasn't full moon. Ever since her husband had passed two years earlier, she called the station every Saturday night to report something crazy.

Goody Woodson didn't listen to any rational explanations. She kept calling, no matter how many times they told her that little green men were just asking for directions to visit their family in Area 51—she'd almost fallen for that, until Reynolds couldn't fight back his laughter anymore. But she didn't care that Old Bootter had put down the only werewolf that hadever dared to come near Bold Peak thirty years earlier. And Alex had stated loud and clear that vampires were not welcome in town six years earlier. Mrs. Woodson knew all that, and she kept calling anyway.

"Bold Peak Police Department, this is Deputy Oliver Turner."

A deafening racket came from the other end of the line. A stuttering voice tried to utter a full sentence among all the screams. Ollie recognized the voice.

"What now, Stevie?" he asked, annoyed.

The boy managed to shout a few words that made sense. Enough for Ollie to get this wasn't a prank.

"Hang on, kid! I'm on my way!"

Claire was parking the Hilux behind the cruiser when Ollie stormed out of the station.

"Trouble at Rob's party!" he said, pretty much jumping into the cruiser.

He started the engine and hit the gas, skidding away with lights and sirens on. Claire followed him in the Hilux.