BloodWise

BloodWise, Chapter 5

Winston put his gun into his jacket and followed them through the woods. As the approached the house, the land became more swampy, and mud crusted onto his leather oxfords. The air had a rotten smell to it that only got worse as they moved along. It was amazing to think that they were still in Baltimore. He couldn’t see any city lights, couldn’t hear any cars. What he could hear were crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.

The trees finally opened into a clearing that was part junkyard and part boneyard. There were rusting cars, old pieces of furniture melding with the landscape, a half rotted horse carcass, small piles of human and animal bones. One full size human corpse, unclothed and bloated, hanging upside-down from a tree. The only light was an orange glow cast by two trash can fires near the front door. A miniature versions of hell, certainly worthy of Dante.

The house itself was huge, a classic plantation manor with columns and two large wings. Big enough a place to shelter dozens. It might have once been white or cream, but it was now gray and black. The clapboards were half rotted and more than half the windows were missing. The front door was still there, and it was big and black, and made out of some kind of metal. It had probably been installed in the 1800’s. The whole place- the grounds, the woods, and the house itself- seemed to be breathing in Winston’s face, and its breath was filled with a deep loathing.

Mel fished fumbled through a set of keys until he found the right one and then he unlocked it. Rats scuttled out of their way as they entered the foyer. Large insects on the floor didn’t bother to move, and the Prestons squashed them in passing. Chained to the wall near the entrance was a woman’s body. She’d probably died recently. Her skin was pale and crinkly and her face was frozen in a death mask of fear.

“Tomorrow’s lunch!” Bunny said for Winston’s benefit. “Have you ever eaten a person before, Solomon? I don’t just mean drinkin’ their blood, I mean eaten them whole, as in flesh and bone and all?’

Winston didn’t reply. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark of the inner house.

“Have you ever eaten a vampire before?” she asked with all the earnestness of a child asking whether or not Santa Claus were real.

Once they reached some kind of sitting room, they sent the veiled woman to find Old Skinner. Winston didn’t sit ,and he didn’t take his hand out of gun pocket. He knew he couldn’t take on all these vampires. Not five of them. He would have to play his hand well now, and that would require a certain psychological distance. This was one thing he’d learned during his time in Catman’s posse, if he wanted to protect his life, he’d have to view it as bargaining chip. In the distance a moaning, a mix of desire and pain, and then that faded too. Finally, there was a squeaking noise. Old Skinner was brought forward in a wheel chair that looked like it had been manufactured before World War Two.

The chair was pushed by two big Prestons. One was a woman in a long white dress who was the size and shape of a professional wrestler. The other one was a male vamp with no nose. He wore an out of date suit and tie and had a hunting rifle on a leather strap slung around his back. Winston guessed that the moniker Old Skinner was probably a reference to Lord Preston’s true age, because the boy in the chair before him looked like he was sixteen, and he was beautiful. He had soft, straight blond hair, peachy-pink skin, full lips and angelic brown eyes. he wore brown trousers, black shoes, and half-opened ruffled shirt that Winston associated with paintings of 18th century aristocrats.

Old Skinner began to make a sound. Winston realized that it was the moaning he’d heard earlier.

The large woman in the white dress leaned over him and whispered something into Skinner’s ear.

“No thanks, Essie,” Skinner answered. “I’ll do this myself.” Then he stood slowly, his eyes shut in concentration. He held one hand against his thin belly. It took a long time for him to find his feet. The he looked at Solomon. “Don’t stare, boy. It impolite.”