Page 30 of Corpse Roads
It looks old, not that I know much about the real world, let alone buildings. I like the way these tiny vines seem to creep over the bricks. Dark, glossy leaves contrast against the rich-red brick.
“Your home?”
Hunter gestures inside. “Like I said, this is only a temporary measure while the vampires are chasing us for a story.”
“What are vampires?”
Hunter sighs for the hundredth time. “Never mind.”
We step into a large entrance painted in a crisp shade of grey. Sparkles reflect off the shining wooden floors from a jewelled light hanging high above us. The effect is mesmerising.
Easing my shoes off, I wince at the pain across the soles of my bandaged feet. I’ve barely taken a breath before the sound of footsteps against wood races towards us.
A blur of golden fur launches across the room with an excited yip. The toned body of an animal collides with my legs, and I nearly fall over from the sheer size and weight of my attacker.
“Down, Lucky!” Hunter shouts. “Fucking dog.”
The creature doesn’t listen to her owner. She wraps herself around me, preening as I bury my fingers in her velvet fur. She’s a huge dog, reaching almost to my waist with strong, muscular limbs.
“Sorry.” Hunter takes off his navy coat and hangs it up, his suit now rumpled. “She gets lonely when we work late.”
“It’s okay.”
“Just push her away if you want.”
Lucky seems to sense her owner’s bad attitude. She snorts and disappears through a large archway where Enzo’s voice greets her. I follow the sound, emerging into a kitchen.
The marble countertops are accentuated with stainless steel and several intimidating appliances. Modern amenities meet classic, expensive charm in a perfect blend of old and new.
Enzo waits for us, leaning against the vast oven top. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? We have some of that crappy protein powder from the hospital.”
“Sounds delicious,” Hunter mutters sarcastically. “I’d rather pluck out my eyeballs instead of drinking that, but thanks.”
“Not for you, jackass. Harlow?”
Shifting my weight, I bite my lip. Will he strike me if I ask for a drink? Tell me that sinners don’t deserve to be sated, and instead I must beg for God to forgive me if I want to live?
Enzo’s gaze is scorching as he watches me deliberate. He loses patience before I summon the courage to speak. Opening the giant, gleaming fridge, he offers me a bottle of water.
I’m almost afraid to take it. My feet are rooted to the spot as new sights and smells overwhelm me. I recognise all of these objects, and I have no idea how.
“For you,” Enzo prompts.
I reluctantly pull the bottle from his grasp. He gives me an encouraging nod and returns to the fridge, pulling two dark-brown bottles out and passing one to Hunter.
The pair of them settle against the kitchen island, taking long pulls from their drinks. Lucky is loudly scarfing her dinner in the corner of the room, her tail wagging happily.
It breaks the tense silence as I stare down at my bandaged feet. I’m searching for something to say and coming up empty. Unanswered questions lay heavy in the air between us.
Enzo clears his throat. “I’ll get the guest room set up. We should have some clean sheets and towels after your folks stayed last month.”
“Round up Leighton too,” Hunter adds. “If he’s in.”
“Doubt it. Friday night; he’ll be out until dawn.”
Hunter tosses his empty bottle before loosening his tie. “One less thing to worry about. You hear from Theo?”
“He called to say the reporters have dissipated from the hospital. Probably returned home to write more shitty articles about us.”