An Unattractive Vampire by Jim McDoniel Read Free Book Online

when I come out in ten minutes, I expect to see you engaged in some sort of team sport or imaginary adventure, because if I don’t, it’ll be all TV for a week. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes,” muttered a low voice somewhere in the vicinity of the child.
    “All right then. Go.”
    Simon rushed past her up the stairs. She listened carefully to his footsteps and, when she was reasonably sure he had left, turned back to the remaining combatant.
    “You!” she spat. “What do you think you’re doing, fighting a second grader?”
    No one talked to Yulric Bile this way, and because no one talked to him this way, he found it difficult to respond. “He started it.”
    “Oh, and how exactly does a little kid start a fight with a werewolf?” she asked, her arms folded across her chest. She was baiting him. She had spent the night coming up with all manner of argument to prove he was a werewolf. All he had to do was rise to her challenge.
    He didn’t.
    “By shooting it repeatedly in the head with your firearm,” he said.
    “Impossible! He doesn’t know where I keep—” Amanda’s voice cut off as the silver gleam of the Beretta, lying where Simon had left it, caught her eye. Her eyes grew wide, first with shock, then with anger.
    “Simon!”
she didn’t yell so much as simply raise her voice. But the tone hit the key of trouble major, which amplifies the sound to the intended listener—in this case, the small boy who had sneaked back to listen at the top of the stairs. In the silence that followed, both the creature and the girl heard small footsteps rush through the house, the slam of a door, and a bike with training wheels peel out, if such a thing were possible. 6
    Amanda turned around to face the creature. Normally, she would apologize. That was the polite thing to do when you wrongly accuse someone, not to mention when your brother shoots that somebody in the head. Then again, it didn’t exactly seem proper etiquette to apologize to an abomination whose very existence is an insult to nature. She settled for a questioning tone. “What are you doing here?”
    “It is daytime,” he said dismissively.
    “What does daytime have to do with being a werewolf?” Amanda scoffed. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re a ‘vampire.’” She used air quotes on this last word.
    “Yes, I ‘am,’” Yulric retorted, imitating her hand motion, though he did not know why. He supposed this was how people talked now.
    Amanda glared her most effective motherly glare. “You have till nightfall. Then, you’re gone.”
    “I can come or go from this house as I please.” Yulric smiled.
    “Riiiight.” She rolled her eyes. “Because of my invitation.”
    He chuckled mockingly. “Silly girl. Your invitation merely pointed me in your direction. It had nothing to do with my ability to enter.” He walked past her as if she weren’t even there. “I need no invitation to enter my own home.”
    He climbed the stairs and entered the house. The effect would have been more dramatic if it hadn’t been midday. As it was, he came hissing back down, somewhat singed, and could not go back up until after Amanda had pulled all the shades. After that, the questions remained, but the mystery had certainly died.

Chapter 6
    The history surrounding the Pink House of Shepherd’s Crook is long, ominous, and surprisingly well documented, since nothing says “Wouldn’t you like to donate to the Shepherd’s Crook Historical Society?” quite like a haunted house. The structure was originally built in 1678 for an unknown English gentleman. He took up residence in 1679 and lived there less than a year before mysterious and violent circumstances led to his disappearance. Modern historians agree that he was likely the victim of persecution on trumped-up charges, based on the presence of infamous witchfinder Erasmus Martin—honorary reverendship given, stripped, given again, stripped again, and now being reconsidered by the Shepherd’s Crook