“Where does this guy live, anyhow?”
He shrugged. “Along here, I guess.”
Great. The cure doctor and Bigfoot. I should have brought my camera. The cab came to a stop outside a run-down trailer home in the middle of nowhere. Quinn got out of his side of the car, paid the driver, and asked him to stick around for a bit.
I opened my car door and stepped out directly into a big, slushy puddle of mud. I grimaced as the dampness soaked through my shoes. Great. At least today I’d decided on the Nikes. Quinn didn’t wait for me. He strode right up to the door of the mobile home and knocked sharply. And waited. There was no answer.
I put a hand on my hip. “You’re sure this is the right address?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Quinn, save the attitude. We’re in this together, remember?”
He turned to glare at me, then his eyes got wide. “Don’t move.”
I froze in place. “What?”
“Just don’t move. I’m serious, Sarah.”
I heard something. Close. Twigs breaking on the ground. Loud breathing in and out.
Sniffing.
Sniffing?
I glanced down. There was a large—and I mean large—dog staring at me from only inches away. It growled, low and menacing, and bared its teeth.
“I don’t like dogs,” I whispered. “Go away. Shoo.”
“Be nice,” Quinn warned.
“Uh…” I could feel sweat dripping down my back. “Nice doggy? Yeah. Good doggy.”
The growl increased and it took a step closer to me. I couldn’t tell what breed it was. Big, black, and probably rabid. The kind of dog that rips your throat out now and asks questions later.
“Nice dog—”
It jumped at me, muddy feet on my chest, knocking me to the ground and into a big pile of wet snow. I screamed and saw Quinn leap toward me. Then I heard the gunshot. And I felt the hot, wet tongue of the dog licking up my left cheek.
“Ew.” I tried to push its muzzle away.
There was another gunshot, but the dog didn’t budge. Who was shooting?
“Barkley,” a coarse voice commanded. “Get off the lady. Now!”
Barkley whimpered and, with a last affectionate swipe of its tongue, moved away from me. I was too stunned to stand up yet, so I just lay there on my back. Quinn came into view above me, a look of concern on his face. Then another man appeared. He was tall, skinny, and had sparse, longish white hair plastered to his head. He wore a ratty burgundy housecoat. If crazy had a look, this was it.
He pointed the gun at me. “Get up, vampire.”
He backed away as Quinn helped me to my feet and motioned with the shotgun for us to go toward the trailer.
“You’re Dr. Kalisan?” Quinn asked.
“Shut it. Get.”
We turned toward the door, and he pushed the gun into each of our backs to nudge us forward.
“Listen,” I said. “We can just go. Don’t want to bother you or anything. Our cab…” I glanced behind me. Where the cab used to be were two dark tire tracks in the light covering of snow. I shook my head. “Oh, never mind.”
Kalisan pushed us into the trailer and shut the door behind us. Immediately we were plunged into darkness.
“Down,” he said, and I felt the gun jab me in my spine again.
I clung to Quinn’s arm and found that we were making our way down a long flight of stairs. Down and down. It was so strange. I stumbled a couple of times, but finally ended up on flat ground. Fluorescent lights flickered on. We were standing in a large living room: couches, television, stereo system, weird embryos in glass jars on the bookshelf. The trailer must have been just the tip of the iceberg. This was a whole underground lair. Well, suburban- style lair, anyhow. Kalisan still had the gun on us, his eyes narrowed. Barkley sat next to him, large and foreboding, but panting, with his tail wagging happily.
“Why don’t you point that gun somewhere else,” Quinn said, holding on to my sweaty hand.
“What do you want, vampires?”
I frowned. “The cure, of course. We called for an appointment.”
“You think it’s that easy? Just call for an appointment and come on over?”
“Well, yeah.”
His eyes narrowed even farther until they were such tiny slits I couldn’t believe he could see out of them at all. “Who are you? What are your names?”
Quinn glanced at me and squeezed my hand. “I’m Michael Quinn. And this is Sarah Dearly.”
Kalisan frowned and lowered the gun a fraction. “Quinn, eh?”
“Yeah, so?”
The doctor moved backward, without taking his eyes off us. He grabbed a framed photo that sat on a table next to his television and brought it back to us, thrusting it in Quinn’s face.
“Who’s that, then?”
The photo was of a much younger Kalisan. He wore a bright yellow leisure suit and a tie so wide I would have thought it was a Halloween costume if my father hadn’t owned the exact same outfit. On either side of him was a much younger Roger Quinn and a pretty blond woman.
Quinn snatched the photo away from Kalisan. “Those are my parents.”
Kalisan eyed him for a moment. “Your father is the great vampire hunter, Roger Quinn?”
Quinn stared back at him. “Like I said, I’m looking for a cure.”
“I see.” He lowered the gun to the floor. “Your father is an admirable man. Someone who would be disappointed to find out what has happened to you. He doesn’t know, I presume?”