Page 47 of Bitten Vampire
Fear hardly covers it. I’m no fighter. I’m no gritty avenger with battle scars and brass knuckles. I’ve thrown exactly one punch in my life, and that was into a vampire’s head while he murdered me. So, no, I’m not the punch-and-kick type.
But I’m not a coward either, and I won’t let that girl die. I cannot imagine what might happen if I ignore the vision, the compulsion to act is almost overwhelming. These visions must matter. If she were meant to die, why show me? Someone—something—saved me; now it’s my turn.
“I can save her, House.” I stand, fists clenched. “Any idea how to stop a vampire?”
A few,she replies, deceptively casual.Go into the kitchen.
Baylor doesn’t stir, flat on the carpet, snoring like a faulty motor. I frown and walk to the kitchen. A new internal door punctuates the far wall.
“Where did that come from?”
Oh, that,House says breezily,is the armoury.
“The what?”
Spells,enchantments, tools, things that go zap. You know, an armoury. I have been storing magic for years. I can alter the layout, and I thought a basement war room might be fun.
Is there nothing House cannot do? I stare, then turn the handle. The door creaks open?—
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
No stairs. No basement steps.
A slide.
“You are joking. A slide?”
Stairs are boring,she says, amusement clear in her voice.
Despite my nerves, I laugh. “Last time I used a slide, I was ten. It was one of those old metal ones, hot from the sun, rivets digging into the backs of my legs. I burnt my arse and went home with bruises.”
This one’s smooth—and fun.
I don’t hesitate. I sit, tip forward and whoosh. The slidewhirls me down in warm, magical speed; I laugh, hair whipping behind me. I land—miraculously graceful—on solid stone.
The room sprawls before me, softly lit by floating orbs. Shelves, cabinets, and racks gleam with unfamiliar weapons, shimmering bottles, and scrolls bound with silver twine. A workbench, a wardrobe. An armoury.
My mouth falls open. “Holy?—”
Welcome to the good stuff,House says.
I don’t know what to do with all the good stuff. The room is a maze of magic. I don’t dare poke around in case something explodes. I shuffle forward, hand hovering over a glowing object shaped suspiciously like a gilded pineapple, when?—
No! Don’t touch that!House’s shriek ricochets off the brick walls.
I screech and stagger back.
She giggles.Giggles.
“You are not funny.” My heart does a frantic tap-dance and I fold my arms. “That’s it! I’m not touching anything. Keep your creepy basement toys.”
I spin to leave. I have no idea how I’m going to climb the slide, except it has vanished. In its place stands a flight of stairs.
I rub my forehead. “Of course there are stairs now. Why wouldn’t there be?”
Come on,House says, ever so cheerily,you want to save this girl? I’ve got just the thing.
Something drifts from a top shelf and hovers in front of me. I squint at the floating, perfectly carved piece of wood.
