Chasing Demons (Book 2) Rated R

Chapter 7

A man's boots sunk into untouched snow. Fresh flurries of it gently glided down from the sky, landing on the shoulders of his leather jacket.

The path he forged led to a brick home which had a dormant chimney on its eastern end. No smoke escaped from it but the curtain of snow, made wild by the wind, made visibility low. Of course, this was nothing his vampire eyes couldn't handle.

Around the back of the house, and on the ground, almost entirely buried by snow was a yellow streamer of plastic. The words weren't familiar, in a different language perhaps, but as he picked it up to examine it, I recognized it as the universal caution tape you sometimes saw at crime scenes on television.

The man turned, his angular face squinting up at the roof of the home where icicles hung precariously, frozen spears waiting to impale him.

With his bright blue eyes, he saw something there that made him draw closer.

He reached for the door, which must have been cold. He jumped away as if he'd been electrocuted, cursing as his face contorted with pain. Then, something happened.

The icicles above the door came loose, missing him by a few short centimeters. But as he jumped away, the water they released as they fell landed on his hands which he used to shield his face.

He cried out in pain, turning as he examined his already blistering palms.

"Fuck!" He growled. Pain twisted his features and then something dawned on him. "Jesus, Aimee." He scanned his surroundings wildly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He dove for the snow, his knees hitting the earth as his hands sank into a blanket of white.

Almost immediately, relief washed over his face transforming him into an angel admits a heaven of hail.

After a moment, he rose onto his feet again, cradling his more badly burnt hand to his chest.

The wind shifted and something caught his attention. It was the silhouette of a man, slightly distorted by the frenzied weather.

"Wait," He said. "Wait, did you know this family?"

He gestured toward the cabin but the blurry figure took off running. Sighing, the man jogged after him, pausing as a second male figure poked out trembling from behind a tree.

"Please," The boy said. "We are just collecting a few logs to keep us warm. Please, let my brother go."

A part of me knew, subconsciously that the words being exchanged here were not English yet somehow I could understand them perfectly.

"I wish you nor your brother any harm."

"Petrov, go." The older boy said. From another tree peeked out a smaller, golden haired boy, may eight or nine, the person that Christian has originally spotted.

Petrov obeyed, taking off into the forest, boots scuttling through the snow until he'd disappeared altogether.

The older boy squared his shoulder as if preparing for something terrible.

"Truly, I am not here to harm you. I just have some questions. Do you live nearby?"

The boy looked away, uncertain. "You won't find anything there worth your while. Take me instead."

Christian shook his head, confused. "All I want to know is what happened here. Did you know these people?"

"You mean, the vampir?"

"Is that what people are called here?" Christian asked.

"It is what they were. And what you are also. But they were the good kind. Our neighbors hurt no one, they were not like the red-eyed demons. They did not deserve this."