Page 34 of Our Little Monster
We each took to our bags, sipping the rich contents dry and then tossing them in the trash bin.
“I’ll go get ready. Give me five minutes,” Nox said, heading for the stairs.
He was back down in three and went straight for his classic Camaro.
The car rolled to a stop over the gravel lot. An abandoned warehouse loomed before us, its silhouette jagged against the cloudy gray morning sky.
Its exterior was a patchwork of weathered bricks, crumbling concrete, and graffiti, with plenty of broken windows and rusted metal doors.
A quiet area, save for the occasional chirp of a distant bird or the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Weeds and wild grasses had taken root in the cracks of the pavement.
“Bastian, you sure this is the place?” I asked, leaning forward from the back seat.
“Yeah, it’s the right address,” Bastian replied, his voice steady.
“Kinda creepy?” Nox said.
I had to agree. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and pushed the car door open, the rusted hinges creaking in protest. Nox loved this old classic, but it still had its quirks.
“Alright, well, let’s go.” Nox said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s see what trouble we can get up to in there.” He started walking towards the warehouse, bottle in hand. “Sure knows how to pick a place with character, doesn’t he?”
“Character, yeah,” I mused. “And probably asbestos.” Our laughter was a brief reprieve from the unease that had started to bundle tightly in my chest.
We crossed the threshold through the open rusted door Bastian indicated he’d been instructed to use, stepping into the cavernous belly of the warehouse. The shadows stretched long and ominous.
“Victor?” Bastian’s voice echoed off the tall cement walls and old machinery as he glanced around the space.
“Over here, gentlemen,” Victor’s voice came from the shadows. The man was old, ancient even. It was never mentioned how old he was, and I doubted Bastian even knew. However old he was, he didn’t look it.
Victor emerged, his form materializing from the darkness like a demon conjured from hell. There was a smile on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something seemedoff, but we greeted him as we normally did.
“Victor, how have you been?” Bastian said, a slight weariness in his eyes as he pulled him into a one-armed hug. “What’s all this about?” He gestured to the surroundings with a sweeping motion. “Something wrong?”
“Never better, Bas,” Victor responded, his tone light, but there was a tension in the air now, crackling like static. “And no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to set the scene for you boys. I have a proposition for you.”
We exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between us. The mood in the room was shifting, becoming something charged. Bastian looked to Nox and me for confirmation, and we gave subtle nods.
We stood united, whatever this was.
“Alright, yeah. Want to talk over a drink?” Bastian asked, his own way of diffusing whatever was brewing.
“We brought the good bourbon,” Nox offered, attempting to usher some normalcy into this bizarre interaction.
“That sounds excellent,” Victor replied, motioning toward a worn table surrounded by chairs that had seen better days.
The bourbon sloshed gently against the sides of the bottle as Nox uncorked it, the rich scent wafting to my nose and mingling with the mustiness of the abandoned warehouse.
It felt out of place here, like a drop of luxury amid decay.
Victor’s approving nod sent Nox into motion, pouring the amber liquid into glasses with a practiced hand, steady despite the unease gnawing around us. Nox settled back into his chair. The wood creaked beneath him.
“So, what’s going on?” Bastian asked carefully.
Victor took a seat, the light from a broken window catching in his dark eyes in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get straight to the point,” he began. “I’d love for you to join me.”
The way he said it, with an almost mischievous lilt, made my stomach twist uneasily.
He continued, “I think it’s time we rise, boys. Not just us, but all Vampires.”
