Night Home (The Vampire Next Door Book 1)

by Rose Titus

  Late in the afternoon, she called Josephine, who woke earlier than the others.

  “Huh? Some weird guy in your backyard? Call the cops.”

  “He’s gone now, Josie.” There was no sign of him now.

  “Got a strange boyfriend stalking you or something?”

  “No way. Don’t know this guy. Hell, couldn’t even make out his face with the snow flying around, but I kind of think he was maybe middle-aged, the way he walked and stuff like that.”

  “I still think you should call the cops.”

  “Naw. They’ll think I’m nuts.”

  Later, Seymour and Josephine came over to see if she was all right. “Of course I’m okay. It was just some fruitcake lost in the woods, that’s all.”

  “In a blizzard? What kind of fool goes out in the kind of storms we have around here?” Seymour said.

  “Let’s go look through the woods,” Josie suggested.

  “You want to search the woods in sub-zero temperatures?” Muriel couldn’t believe she would even want to. “It’s freezing cold in the daytime, and it must be even colder now.”

  But they went back out. Muriel stayed in, watching her new television that lacked cable. Soon, they were back at the door.

  “No sign of anything,” Seymour said. “But there probably wouldn’t be because of the snow fall earlier. No one is out there now, Muriel. You’re safe.”

  “Look, I’m not worried. I’ll lock my door. You guys are making more of this than I am.”

  “Can’t be too careful these days. If you see anything again, call someone.”

  They left. She decided to forget about it and go to bed. And to try not to feel ridiculous.

  The next morning she decided laundry needed to be done. She had no clean underwear left, or clean socks, and she wanted to wash the sheets and bedspread she had brought with her from the dorm, as they still smelled like her roommate’s constant smoking, another reason she was glad to move into the run-down old house. The blizzard was finally all cleared out and the sun shone brightly, reflecting in the pure white snow that now covered the rural landscape. She looked out into the forest behind the house; she could only see the trees, all covered in white. At night the moon would come out and they would all turn silver.

  After locating a snow shovel and clearing a path for her car, she gathered her things and headed into town to the laundromat. The heater in her car was ineffective, and the heat in the laundromat wasn’t much better. When all sorting and folding was done, she decided to head for the local coffee shop, which, she guessed, was probably the most exciting place in a town with no cable, a one room library, a liquor store, a thrift shop, and a single gas station.

  Perfect place for a bunch of vampires, she thought to herself. No one around to bother them. And she wondered how many other people locally, if any, knew.

  “No one around to bother them,” she whispered, loading the trunk of her Chevy with clean-smelling laundry. And she realized, that’s why they stay here.

  The coffee shop was populated by what she felt were stereotypical small town type folk, she noticed. Old people reading the paper, having breakfast, and complaining while they read about this politician and that politician and complaining about the general way things were today. She ordered a coffee and a donut.

  Further down along the counter sat a man who didn’t look local, and he appeared vaguely familiar somehow. He also ordered coffee, and a bagel, and asked, “By the way, since you most likely live around this area, I’m traveling through and looking for a house that once belonged to a man whose last name was Aubrey?”

  She startled, and looked at him. Had it been him in the woods?

  “Nope, don’t know anyone by that name ’round here,” said the waitress with the out-of-style blonde perm.

  And Muriel was relieved.

  “How about you, miss?” he said, looking directly at her.

  “N-no...sorry. Can’t tell you.” She sipped her coffee and remained silent. She watched him warily from the corner of her eye for nearly a half hour until he finally finished his coffee and left.

  And when he walked out the door she was sure. It was him.

  “We respect people’s privacy around here.”

  “Huh?” She was startled again, and then had no idea how to answer.

  The waitress said nothing else, and turned her back to Muriel. She quietly went back to her work, wiping counters, brewing more coffee.

  Muriel was secretly grateful. And she felt foolish for previously snickering quietly to herself at the middle-aged waitresses, who most likely spent their whole lives working in a cheap, boring diner in a small town. She realized these women could probably know a hell of a lot from living and working and listening in a place like this, and most likely knew a lot more than they were saying. What, and how much, was the question.

  When she returned home, she recognized Josie’s small gray Saturn by the side of the road next to her driveway, waiting for her return. She got out of her Chevy and simultaneously Josie got out of her car. “What’s up, Jos?”

  “I was worried, that’s what’s up. Someone we know called, said some strange guy is wandering around town, asking all kinds of questions.”

  “Yeah. It’s true. I ran into him today.” She went to get her laundry out of her car. “Let’s get inside. It’s colder than hell out here.”

  Once inside, Muriel put the tea kettle on and explained.

  “Muriel, I’m worried. That is so strange. A guy is wandering around in your woods, staring through your window, and going around town asking about stuff.”

  “I dunno. It’s getting damn spooky. I mean...” Her voice trailed off when she realized the irony. She was surrounded by vampires all around town, and she was suddenly terrified by an odd, middle-aged, out-of-shape man in a donut shop. “It’s just not...logical.”

  Josephine declined to have tea or cookies. She just couldn’t stomach it anymore, she said. Muriel felt bad for her, unable to imagine a life of not being able to eat whatever she wanted. They sat and talked awhile.

  “The way he sounded, he seemed educated. He was middle-aged, or older. But not old. I dunno. Hard to tell. He didn’t seem strange when I saw him at the coffee shop, but being in my woods is strange. And asking questions about my uncle is very damn strange. Who would even remember him? Except you guys—”

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “Muriel. I heard something.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re just getting paranoid like me.” She could hear nothing at all.

  “No...I...It sounds like a car out there.”

  She looked through the window, and then finally Muriel noticed. “Who the hell is that?”

  Josie got up to look out the front window too. “I don’t think I recognize that truck, Muriel.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “He’s leaving now, though. Whoever it was, it was like he was parked there on the side of the road by the house, and now he’s gone.”

  “I am scared, Josie. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe you should move back on campus.”

  “No. What’s that gonna solve? Then you’d all still be in trouble, and it would be my fault. I can’t just walk out like that.”

  “You’re a good person, just like your uncle.” She was still staring out the window. Her voice was distant and sad. “I never knew him, but I wish I did. People who can accept us are so few and rare. There are so few people we can tell, except for around this little town. A lot of people grew up here, don’t see us age, know the old stories, and know enough not to hurt us. And it’s not your fault. No one will blame you.” She turned to look directly at Muriel. “And, Muriel...I’m afraid, too.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Muriel sat down on the worn out sofa, and gazed out the window into the cold darkness.

  “Maybe we should tell Sophie. She already knows about this guy, but tell her about that strange vehicle too.”

  Murie
l agreed. They would tell her right away, as soon as it was dusk.

  “So this guy I’m seeing, right? He’s local, but there are some things I gotta tell him because I think he wants to get serious.” She took a left turn. “I mean, we do things a little differently, and I’m afraid that would freak him out. He knows some things, but not everything.”

  “What’s to freak out about? He’d only lose a few drops.” At least that’s the way she understood it to be, from her uncle’s notes. “Right?”

  “Well, you know how they show it on TV. You see somebody get their throat ripped to shreds then they die two seconds later. I wish TV was never invented, Muriel. You know that?”

  “Yeah, I know. But I sure missed not having one until now.”

  “Here we are.” Josie pulled up into the driveway of the small stone house that was partially hidden behind a row of pine trees, making Sophie’s house difficult to see from the road. Annasophia opened the door. “What is it, my darlings?” she asked in a motherly tone. “Come in, then. Come in, children.”

  Muriel did not think of herself as a child. But then Sophie was so much older.

  “Sophie,” Josie began, “we wanted to tell you, someone is watching Muriel’s house.”

  “Yeah. Some strange SUV was out on the road, looking in the window.”

  They followed her inside. Sophie was speechless at first. She brought them into the living room, where she had her sewing machine out. She had been making a dress. She owned a seamstress shop with another woman in town, and took work home with her often. Muriel heard that customers came from many other surrounding towns to find her shop, because her work was so high quality.

  She put her fabric away and sat down. “This is my fault. I let this happen.”

  “No,” said Josie. “Sophie! How can it be your fault?”

  “Yeah, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” said Muriel. “Right?”

  “No, not right. It’s my responsibility, if anything happens.” She looked as if she were in pain. “Dear God. I don’t want this to ever happen again.”

  “It’s not your fault, Sophie. I’m sorry I ever sent that story to that magazine. I should have kept quiet about it. I was a jerk to—”

  “No, Muriel. Sit down, both of you. Let me tell you something. Muriel, I must ask you. How many of those old notebooks did you find?”

  The girls sat across from her. “Five,” Muriel said. “Why?”

  “Well. That’s what I thought you had, that night when I saw them on your kitchen table. But, I remembered that he had six of them. You never found any other notebook?”

  “N-no.”

  She sighed. “That has me worried. You see, the way I remember—and it’s been such a long time—He was planning to show some of his notes to another professor at the university. I asked him not to, and I thought that he wouldn’t, but, I saw them in his car and asked where he was going with them. He told me. I begged him not to. He agreed, then, not to show his research yet. But he left them in his car. Then he claimed one of the notebooks had disappeared. I was worried then, and he never found it. We all looked everywhere. Shortly after, he and the others were murdered. In a panic, I quickly gathered up all his papers, everything I could find that he had kept, and hid them as well as I could. I was in a hurry, and put them there because it was the only available hiding place at the time. And who would bother to look in there? No one that I know cleans that thing out.”

  “You put them in there? In that...” She couldn’t think of the exact name for it. “That place?”

  “Yes.” She looked down at the carpet, drew a breath and let it out slowly. “I put them in there quickly the night after the murder, before the police came to search the house. I always planned to one night somehow get them back and, I don’t know, just put them someplace else. But then people moved in. They never found them, thankfully. It was just lucky they never used the fireplace much, I suppose. But then most people are too lazy to bother to clean their ashes out.”

  “Um...Sophie? Was it you who broke the window in the back door? I mean, maybe, trying to get them back, or something?”

  “No. That was most likely just stupid teenagers stealing the TV to sell for drug money. Anyway, we knew the Professor had a spare key somewhere in the garden and I was looking all around for that, too, but never found it.”

  “Oh. Sorry I thought—”

  “Never mind. What I need to tell you is, I think it may be my fault your uncle was killed. “

  “What?”

  “Well, I had followed his story in the newspaper for some time, about how he got in trouble at the university for advocating for blacks and women to be admitted. He seemed so far ahead of his time. In the old country, they always treated us like, well, worse than animals when they found out about us. Killed us outright with no good reason. It was like how the people in the South treated the blacks, you know, back then, that’s how things were, and I saw it being similar somehow.” She paused, sighed again. “I heard he was coming to our little town to research the local legends for his folklore studies. Yes, dear Muriel, the little town has legends of vampires the way Salem, Massachusetts has legends of witches. At the time he arrived, we had been here long enough for the less educated people to whisper. That was in the 1930’s, and that foolish Dracula film had been in the theaters. It caused some talk. He came here to do research. I went to the house he was renting at the time, which he eventually purchased to stay long term. I went to introduce myself and, well, you girls know the rest. If I had kept quiet, he would have believed there was nothing here but foolish stories and he would have written his paper and then he would have gone home. But no. I had to believe that I could change things, make things better for us all. I was wrong. It was my fault, and it still is.”

  “No!” Josephine stood up. “No! No! And no! It is not your fault. Okay? You did not pull the trigger, Sophie. That guy did, whoever he was. And he went to jail for it. And then he got the chair, okay? It is not your fault—”

  “Sophie,” Muriel broke in. “You haven’t been carrying all this guilt around for like eighty years?”

  “Well, Yes.”

  “Well, don’t, because it’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the guy who pulled the trigger, like Josie said. Plus also, it’s my uncle’s fault. Because he talked to someone about it. And maybe he was stupid enough to take the notebook back to the university with him, and lose it, or let someone see it, or whatever. But that was his mistake, not yours.”

  “No one blames you, Sophie,” Josie went to her and put her arms around her. “We love you.”

  “Yeah, we love you, Sophie,” and Muriel put her arms around her, too.

  “Thank you. You girls are wonderful. Well, that’s not everything, Muriel.”

  “Then what?”

  “Before he was shot, Benjamin said he believed that some of the notes might have been stolen from out of his car, by the other professor, the very same man who committed the murders, when my dear Ben refused to let him see them. That was right before he was killed, of course.”

  “But that guy is dead now,” said Josie. “They gave him the chair.”

  “They gave him the chair.”

  “I know. Then who is this who keeps watching us? And what ever happened to the missing notebook? Could someone else have found it, and read it?”

  They talked about it for hours but could come to no conclusion. Sophie invited Muriel to stay the night, saying she would be safer than alone. But Muriel felt more comfortable in her own bed, and besides, she said, “I’d feel stupid being scared over this.”

  “Worse things have happened than strange cars out on the street.” Sophie picked her stitching back up. “Well, be careful then. Lock your doors!”

  Josie drove her home.

  “So, what’s this guy’s name?”

  “Huh?”

  “The guy you’re interested in?”

  “Oh. Joel. He’s cool. His dad is a truck driver who doe
sn’t know anything about me, which is probably good. I mean, he knows I’m seeing Joel, but he doesn’t, you know, know about me. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. And I still haven’t figured out if I’m interested in him or not.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” She hesitated. “Josie. I was wondering, how do they get the blood out of the animals? I mean, in the notes that I saw he didn’t say—”

  “They just use a needle. I’ve seen it done. It doesn’t seem to hurt them. They just stand there, the big stupid 800 pound dairy cows. What? You thought we bite them? With all that smelly fur?”

  “Nope. I didn’t think that. That would be like the old-fashioned way, I guess. I thought maybe a knife, or something, and then have to stitch them up.” She did at least know it was bottled and refrigerated, and she had seen it put in a microwave.

  “Naw. That would be a mess.” She explained there were two large farms outside of town, with about five hundred cattle in total, more than enough to feed forty nine of them.

  “There are that many?”

  “I dunno, four or five hundred dairy cows—”

  “No! I mean—”

  “Oh yeah. You only met a few of us. Yeah. The population hasn’t gone up much since the 1800’s, I guess.” She explained that they had fewer children than most people, though they weren’t certain why. It didn’t matter, probably. “After all, we live longer anyway. I guess we don’t need to replace ourselves as often. I ought to take biology in college. Maybe I can figure some of this stuff out.”

  She turned on the car’s heater, but still they were both cold. It was always colder at night.

  They talked about school. Josephine went nights; it was easier for her to stay awake if she did. She worked part-time also as a waitress at a truck stop. “Some of the men who come in there are such pigs. Last week one of them grabbed my ass.”