Molly ran as quickly as she could, until her legs hurt and she felt close to losing her lunch, but she was no match for a vampire hell bent on speed. Still, she was able to follow the sulphur vapor. Sweat dripping from every pore, her clothes soaked, she slowed to a walk knowing she was near her destination. Now all Molly had to do was figure a way to stealthily approach the house, then sneak in.
Or she could stand in front of the house and gaze at it in wonder. It was a beautiful old Victorian lady, tall and stately, painted dark grey with lavender trim. The mansard roof was the color of graphite and seemed to meld with the night sky. A deck had been added to the rear of the top floor. It overlooked a large back yard and, as the house was built at the top of a hill, the homes below it and the rest of Arbor Woods beneath them. The home of Lazarus was dark like a haunted house, but one haunted by wealthy, elderly women with refined taste. It did not look like the kind of place that would house a rampaging evil vampire who kidnaps people and performs experiments on them in his laboratory.
Her first impulse was to climb the stairs to the front porch and ring the doorbell. Common sense returned quickly, and Molly decided storming in was a bad idea, possibly fatally so. Her mind reverted to thinking of a plan to enter the house by means of stealth.
Molly strode across the front yard hoping there was a way to get to a back door or a basement window she might quietly force her way through. On either side of the house were large, broad bushes, each almost a full story high. Behind them, out of sight from the street, was a narrow walk that wound it’s way around the house. Molly followed the path.
The way was dark but a light shone from a low window toward the rear of the building. Molly crouched beneath the window, listening intently for any movement or voices coming from inside. The short pale blonde hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge, goose pimples formed on her bare arms. She sensed someone, or something, was near. Slowly she turned her head.
The dark silhouette of Augusta stood behind Molly. The silhouette held a small bottle in one hand, a light colored cloth in the other.
“This is for your own good,” Augusta said.
The effects of the chloroform wore off fairly quickly, but when they did Molly was surrounded by darkness and silence. Her hands and feet were trussed together in front of her with rough rope. Duct tape covered her mouth. She was barely able to move.
That’s it, Molly thought, the minute I’m out of her, I’m going to kill her first.
Or she could stand in front of the house and gaze at it in wonder. It was a beautiful old Victorian lady, tall and stately, painted dark grey with lavender trim. The mansard roof was the color of graphite and seemed to meld with the night sky. A deck had been added to the rear of the top floor. It overlooked a large back yard and, as the house was built at the top of a hill, the homes below it and the rest of Arbor Woods beneath them. The home of Lazarus was dark like a haunted house, but one haunted by wealthy, elderly women with refined taste. It did not look like the kind of place that would house a rampaging evil vampire who kidnaps people and performs experiments on them in his laboratory.
Her first impulse was to climb the stairs to the front porch and ring the doorbell. Common sense returned quickly, and Molly decided storming in was a bad idea, possibly fatally so. Her mind reverted to thinking of a plan to enter the house by means of stealth.
Molly strode across the front yard hoping there was a way to get to a back door or a basement window she might quietly force her way through. On either side of the house were large, broad bushes, each almost a full story high. Behind them, out of sight from the street, was a narrow walk that wound it’s way around the house. Molly followed the path.
The way was dark but a light shone from a low window toward the rear of the building. Molly crouched beneath the window, listening intently for any movement or voices coming from inside. The short pale blonde hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge, goose pimples formed on her bare arms. She sensed someone, or something, was near. Slowly she turned her head.
The dark silhouette of Augusta stood behind Molly. The silhouette held a small bottle in one hand, a light colored cloth in the other.
“This is for your own good,” Augusta said.
The effects of the chloroform wore off fairly quickly, but when they did Molly was surrounded by darkness and silence. Her hands and feet were trussed together in front of her with rough rope. Duct tape covered her mouth. She was barely able to move.
That’s it, Molly thought, the minute I’m out of her, I’m going to kill her first.
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